


I found it all on my own

by Uny_Kitty



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Crime Scenes, Discussion of Abortion, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, Gavin Reed-centric, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Medical Trauma, Panic Attacks, Survivor Guilt, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26607916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uny_Kitty/pseuds/Uny_Kitty
Summary: Hank had always wanted kids. His first son comes unexpectedly, turning his whole life upside down. Cole is born with wide green eyes filled with wonder, and Hank loves him more than he ever thought possible.His second son comes not long after, though he's much older than the first. Gavin is an insufferable little shit, but Hank wouldn't trade him for the world.Together they form a weird, little, perfect family. Too bad Gavin has a tendency to fuck up everything he touches.
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Gavin Reed
Comments: 32
Kudos: 113





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is basically just exposition but I hope you guys still like it ahhhhhh

Cole is an accident.

Emilie had been feeling pretty sick for a few days and Hank, ever the worried husband, had insisted that they go see a doctor. Emilie had refused, insisting that she was fine, but after spending hours curled on the bathroom floor four nights in a row, she had agreed to go to the hospital with him.

Turns out Hank had been right to make such a fuss, because the doctor they see confirms that there’s definitely something going on with Emilie.

“Well, congratulations miss Anderson, you’re pregnant.” The doctor announces with a smile. Hank feels like he’s been punched in the gut, all the air in his body suddenly gone. Emilie doesn’t look much better, she’s gone pale as a ghost, her eyes open wide in surprise.

For a long moment, neither of them speak, as if waiting for the doctor to reveal this is some kind of sick fucking joke.

“How… How is that possible.” Hank finds his voice first, but he’s pretty sure he’s in shock. It doesn’t make any sense. Emilie looks like she’s barely gained a few pounds in the last few months and they’re always, well, careful about this kind of stuff. It doesn’t make any sense.

And yet Hank can’t help but feel some kind of giddiness grow in him as he processes the news.

It’s no secret that he’s always wanted children, even before he met Emilie. He often finds himself daydreaming about coming home to a house thrumming with life, kids running around laughing, family photos all over the walls and crude crayon drawings plastered over every inch of the fridge. Three kids. It’s always been his perfect number, ever since he finished college, but Emilie…

“I want an abortion.” Her tone leaves no place for an argument, and Hank offers none.

He doesn’t have anything else to say, they’ve talked about this plenty of times. Hell, it’s the one thing that caused the biggest fight between the two of them.

Hank wants kids, Emilie doesn’t. It’s been the biggest rift in their relationship since the day they met. And yet, they’ve always worked around it, argued and talked and compromised, and it worked.

Now though, it feels a whole lot different.

The doctor gives Emilie a pinched smile, looking awkwardly down at his notes. “I’m afraid this won’t be possible, miss Anderson.”

“Excuse me?” She doesn’t give him a chance to keep talking, her face is slowly turning red as she starts to lose her composure.

“Well, you see.” The doctor starts again, polite smile still firmly in place and looking absolutely unbothered by the interruption. “After a certain period, the fetus is too far along to be aborted without serious danger to the mother’s health. And at 24 weeks, I’m afraid you’ve passed that point already.”

Hank can see Emilie’s shaking hands grasp the edge of her skirt in a withe-knuckled grip as she listens.

“The only reason we would consider doing it at this point is if the fetus itself could be a danger to you. Obviously we’ll have to run a few tests and take a proper ultrasound, but from what I’ve been able to see, I highly doubt it’s the case for you, Miss Anderson.” The doctor folds his hands in front of him, looking like he hasn’t just turned their whole world upside down.

“So you’re saying I’m gonna have to keep it?” Emilie spits out, her voice shaking in anger.

The doctor remains unshaken, tone still light as he pulls out pamphlets from a drawer in his desk. “I assure you, Miss Anderson, we have plenty of programs and resources to help you along in this process.”

“The child is going to be put up for adoption. I don’t want to see it.” Emilie’s voice is cold, angrier than Hank has ever heard her speak.

“Whoa, Emilie! You can’t say that!” Hank can’t help but interject, even if her tone clearly left no room to argue. “We need to think about this more. Take some time to at least look into our options.”

Emilie whirls around to look at him, fury in her eyes. “We? What’s all this “we” bullshit? I’m the one stuck carrying this thing!”

“It’s our child, Emilie!” His own voice starts to raise, anger getting the better of him. “The least you could do is refer to them as a human being!”

Emilie gets up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the tiled floor. “I bet you’re fucking ecstatic about this, right? After all these years begging me to have a child, you finally get your wish. Fuck!” She throws her hands in the air and laughs humorlessly. “For all I know, you’re the one who planned this.”

“Me?” Hank rises as well, his blood boiling. “Me!? Do you really think so lowly of me? You really think I’d be enough of an asshole to do something like this?”

“Well!” The doctor’s voice breaks through them, his impeccable smile still in place. “I can see that the two of you have a lot to work through. My secretary will be in touch with you soon Miss Anderson, I look forward to your next visit.”

Emilie doesn’t answer him, slamming the door on her way out of the office. Hank follows her silently as she storms out of the hospital.

The ride on the way home is tense, neither of them exchanging a single word.

The rest of the week is spent in much of the same way. If Emilie doesn’t glare at him, she outright ignores him when he tries to reason with her.

It’s like he doesn’t exist, a stranger in his own house.

So he throws himself into his work, spends as much time at the precinct as he possibly can, because he stays home too long he knows he won’t be able not to blow up in Emilie’s face.

And as angry as he is with her, he doesn’t want that. So he works.

Lucky for him, the timing couldn’t have been better. He’s assigned to the new Red Ice Task Force, bringing a ton of hard work his way along with a once in a lifetime chance to prove himself. He’s more than happy to entirely devote himself to his new task.

___

Hank is sitting alone in a patrol car.

He’s not actually on patrol, he just wanted to leave the precinct and get a few seconds of peace in his fucked up mess of a life.

Emilie is going to give birth in a matter of weeks now, if not sooner. They still haven’t reached a compromise, still can barely talk to each other. He’s busy as fuck with work, leaves home way too early and comes back way too late. He barely has time for a shower in the morning. The bags under his eyes are so dark that even Ben stopped teasing him about how fucking terrible he looks.

Yeah, he’s getting pretty fucking bad.

He’s parked on the side of the road, right in front of a pet shop, a bag from the ChickenFeed on the passenger seat and the biggest, fattest cheeseburger known to mankind in his hands.

And standing there, with it’s two front paws pressed against the shop window, is the biggest puppy Hank has ever seen in his life. It’s looking at his cheeseburger with so much sadness in its eyes that he can’t make himself take a bite out of it.

This is really fucking stupid.

He lowers the cheeseburger so it’s out of the dog’s sight, hoping that it’ll go away once the food is gone.

Instead, the dog lets out a bark Hank can’t hear, tilting its head to the side and looking at him with big, mournful brown eyes.

And Hank is so fucking stupid.

Emilie doesn’t say anything about the gigantic puppy he brings back home, only looks at it with mild interest as it runs around the house barking like mad. Hank sighs and goes to the kitchen to feed Sumo something a bit better than the few cheeseburger bites he gave him in his car.

He heads to bed without bidding Emilie goodnight. He knows he won’t get any answer.

When Hank wakes up early that morning, he finds Emilie fast asleep on the couch, curled around a loudly snoring Sumo. Hank leaves the house smiling, something he hasn’t done in months.

Maybe, just maybe, they’ll be okay after all.

___

Cole is born on a rainy, cold night in September, and Hank thinks it might be the most beautiful day of his life.

He starts crying as soon as a nurse places the tiny screaming baby in his arms. He takes one look at his son and knows that there’s nothing he won’t do to keep him happy and safe forever.

___

Hank is lucky Jeffrey and him are such good friends. He’s allowed almost a full month’s vacation for his son’s birth, even though his workload as a detective is as high as ever.

Most of it is due to his work on the Red Ice Task Force, officially making him one of the most prolific DPD detective in the last decade. Fuck, he’s even heard talks about a possible promotion for Lieutenant.

But right now, he can’t find it in himself to be happy, or hell, to even care much about it, because Emilie barely takes care of Cole at all.

Ever since they came home from the hospital, she’s been acting as if Cole doesn’t even exist. She never gets up at night when he cries and she refuses to breastfeed him, limiting her contact with the baby as much as she can.

She doesn’t help with Sumo either. Never takes him out on walks, never fills his empty bowl even when the dog whines and barks at her for hours.

She spends her days sitting on the couch, watching television and pretending like there’s nothing going on around her. She doesn’t even eat unless Hank brings her something.

It takes about a week before he snaps, exhaustion getting the better of him.

He yells at Emilie, emotions boiling over as harsh words leave his mouth faster than his brain can follow. He doesn’t know how long he yells, face red and grip on the tv remote so tight he breaks it.

Once his outburst is over, the house is hauntingly quiet. Emilie’s eyes have never left the tv.

Hank sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to get a grip on himself. “I’m going for a drive.”

he doesn’t expect an answer to that either.

He leaves the driveway without a destination in mind, the radio turned off and the windows rolled all the way down despite the cold October weather.

He’s back barely an hour later and wishes he’d never left in the first place. The house is unbearably loud, Sumo running around the kitchen barking like there’s no tomorrow, and Cole crying his lungs out in his crib.

Emilie is nowhere to be seen.

She didn’t leave a note, didn’t even take any of her things except her phone and wallet.

Hank is so angry he punches a hole in the living room wall. The sound startles Cole and he starts crying even louder, which in turn alarms Sumo, causing the dog to bark more intensely.

“Fuck…” Hank wants to scream, but the only sound that comes out of him is barely above a whisper.

He rushes to his room, where Cole is lying in his crib, his little face is all puffed and red from crying. Hank cradles him to his chest, whispering senseless southing words as Sumo starts whining at his feet.

Hank can feel something in himself break, tears making his vision blurry.

He lets them fall, there’s no point to try and stop them. It’s not like there’s anybody who can see him.

___

The next few weeks pass in a blur. He barely sleeps, and getting woken up at every hour of the day or night messes with his sense of time.

He’d told Jeffrey about Emilie leaving, emotions making his words barely understandable over the phone. His friend had wanted to come over, but Hank had been a stubborn piece of shit and had insisted that he was fine. Besides, Jeffrey had allowed him to take as much time off as he needed to take care of Cole. He’d done more than enough for him already.

Hank has been up for God knows how long at this point, when he finally snaps.

He doesn’t know what caused it. The house is quiet for once, Cole sound asleep in his crib. Sumo had even been particularly well-behaved all day.

He simply comes to the realization that he’s completely overwhelmed, and that he can’t keep going on like this. He loves Cole and Sumo, loves them more than anything, but he needs a break.

He misses his work.

Misses puzzling together crime scenes, misses bringing in a criminal and knowing that his hard work helped a family grieve, helped a victim finally find peace. He can’t let the fact that Emilie is gone now ruin the career he worked so hard to build.

That night, it’s with renewed vigor that Hank starts to formulate some kind of plan.

He’ll need to start looking for someone who can watch Cole for him during the day. This will probably be the hardest part, Hank isn’t about to let just anyone take care of his son, especially not one of those new creepy nanny robots. He’ll also have to call Jeffrey, ask him if he can make a gradual comeback. He’s far from ready to work full time again, just the idea of leaving Cole alone for a full day making him nervous, but it’s something he needs to do.

Hank smiles to himself, sitting on his couch with his laptop on his legs and Sumo sleeping at his feet. He can make this work.

___

“You look like shit.”

The words snap him out of his tired haze. Hank has been fully at work for two weeks already, but he still can’t get more than a few hours of sleep at night.

The only reason he’s back at all is that, by some fucking miracle, he’d been able to find a babysitter for Cole.

Julia, a college student who’s taking all of her classes online. She’s a sweet kid, and was more than happy to take the job. He supposes that taking care of a child who sleeps almost all day is a better student job than working forty hours a week at a burger joint. The pay he gives her is also pretty fucking good if he’s being honest.

Hank pinches the edge of his nose, blinking the sleep from his eyes with a sigh. “Thanks, Jeff. You always know how to sweet talk me.”

Fowler rolls his eyes before his face falls back into his usual irritated expression. Except, there’s an edge to it. Nervousness, maybe, but Hank can’t be sure. All he knows is that it makes him uneasy.

“Come in my office. I have…” Fowler pauses, looking away briefly as he weighs his words. “... something for you.”

Well, that’s not fucking ominous at all.

Hank sighs again, checking his phone for any messages from Julia before he gets up. There’s a certain apprehension in his steps, his friend is usually much more forward and the cryptic attitude makes him think that whatever’s waiting for him in the office is something he definitely won’t like.

Once he’s inside he sees that someone is already waiting there, a young officer Hank vaguely remembers seeing in the breakroom a few times. The officer immediately straightens up when the two of them enter the office. He crosses his arms over his chest defensively, but it does very little to hide the nervous look on his face.

Hank ignores him as he goes to stand in front of Fowler's huge ass desk, leaning most of his weight on one of the chairs in front of it. “ So, what’s with the cryptic bullshit?”

“Hank.” Fowler’s voice is all business, and Hank knows that he’s going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth next. “This is officer Gavin Reed.”

Hank turns his head towards the kid who looks like he’s seconds away from throwing up, then back at Jeffrey. “And?”

Fowler shakes his head slightly, but otherwise ignores his blatant lack of professionalism. “I know officer Reed is fairly young, but he’s shown incredible potential in the field ever since he’s been out of the academy. I had him transfer here a few months ago to keep a closer eye on him. And I do believe he has the aptitude needed to become a great detective. Which is why I want him to shadow you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jeff?” The words are out of Hank’s mouth before he can stop himself. And really, he shouldn't be yelling at his friend like that. Fowler had been nothing short of supportive with his situation, but this? This is fucking absurd. “You're putting me on babysitting duty now of all time? What the fuck kind of dumb ass idea is that?”

Fowler keeps his voice low, speaking as if Reed isn't even in the same room. “Hank, I wouldn't be sticking the kid on you if I didn't believe he had what it takes. Hell, if he does a shit job just send him back to me and it'll be like nothing happened. But at least give him a chance.”

Hank sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters a curse. He knows Jeffrey’s making him leave the room with the kid in tow, whether he wants it or not.

“What's your name already, kid?”

The officer looks less like he’s about to keel over at his words, his posture becomes less stiff and a small smile appears on his lips. “I'm officer Gavin Reed, sir.”

“Alright Gavin, first lesson of the day: drop the sir.” Hank huffs a breath that almost sounds like a chuckle. “Jesus fucking Christ, kid. I know I'm old, but I'm not that old.”

Gavin nods seriously and his smile turns into a shit-eating grin. “Duly noted, sir.”

Hank wants to slap him upside the head. Maybe Fowler is into something after all.


	2. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter is badly edited because it's so freacking long I kept forgetting which part I had already edited djsfghd So if you find any mistakes, please let me know!!

So, Hank’s gotten saddled with babysitting duty at work. Like he doesn’t have enough of that going on at home already. But, as much as he hates to admit it, he trusts Jeffrey’s opinion, so he’ll give the kid a chance.

They don’t say anything to each other as they walk out of Fowler’s office, Hank walking over to his desk and sitting with a grunt. Gavin stays standing next to him, looking awkward as fuck.

“You can take this desk.” Hank gestures to the empty desk in front of his own. “Or any free one you want for all I fucking care.”

He swiveled in his chair, opening his computer to look at his daily alerts. It takes him a second to realize that the officer hasn’t moved an inch. Hank turns around, looking at the kid with a raised eyebrow.

“Holy shit…” Gavin looks at the empty desk, then back up at him, excitement shining in his eyes. “I get my own desk?”

Hank can’t help the bark of surprised laughter he lets out. Out of all the things to get excited about…

“Yeah kid, you get your own desk. Now sit your ass down and start working on it.”

“Yes sir.” Gavin grins, giving him a mock salute before sitting down at the desk that’s facing Hank’s own.

“Are you really gonna insist on calling me ‘sir’?” Because, seriously, it makes Hank feel old as fuck.

“Depends.” Gavin says, not looking at him as he opens his computer. “Are you gonna keep calling me ‘kid’?”

Hank snorts, looking down at his own computer. “Fair enough.”

___

Hank fucking hates androids.

He already has enough trouble dealing with human criminals, he really doesn’t need to add rogue robots to the list of things he needs to worry about.

Fortunately, androids are well built enough that the chance of one of them going batshit is pretty slim. Unfortunately, Hank is the closest officer when someone calls in that their android has gone batshit.

And he’d been having a good day too. Gavin and him had arrested a pretty big Red ice dealer yesterday, so they’d spent all morning today filling up paperwork. And because it was a nice and warm summer day, Hank had offered to pay for lunch. He’d brought Gavin to ChickenFeed and the two of them had stuffed their face, sitting on a park bench and enjoying the sunlight.

Hank wishes he’d stayed under the fluorescent lights of the station instead.

The android is running aimlessly in the streets of Downtown and Hank has no problem catching up to it with his car, managing to corner it in an alleyway.

He gets out of the car, gesturing for Gavin to stay inside. He only needs to pick up a broken computer with a face, it’s not really a job that requires two police officers.

The android is looking around frantically, looking for a way out of the alleyway, but it has nowhere to go. Hank is in front of it, blocking its path, and there’s a fence behind it, standing tall enough that it can’t jump over it.

"Alright now, be a good robot and get in the car. I’ve already wasted enough ti-”

The android punches him in the face.

Hank can only stand and watch, completely stunned, as the android runs and leaps at the nearest wall, using its momentum to throw itself over the fence. It lands roughly, but it doesn’t seem to have been damaged, because the android starts scaling the apartment building that’s on the other side of the fence, finding grips on the brick wall that no human can see.

Hank doesn’t have time to catch his breath when someone sprints past him, following the direction the android took off. “Gavin?” He wheezes out, still disoriented from the punch.

Gavin doesn’t acknowledge him as he leaps for the fire escape ladder of the building next to them, right hand barely grasping the last step. But it’s enough, because Gavin is able to reach with his other hand and get a more secure grip on the ladder.

He uses his legs to swing himself, gaining momentum, and Hank is pretty sure he’s going to have a heart attack when Gavin lets go of the ladder, leaping over the fence and grabbing the edge of a balcony on the other side.

Before Hank even has time to get himself over his potential heart failure, Gavin is pulling himself up and over the railing of the balcony he was hanging off of, wasting no time and jumping to grab the edge of the second balcony right over him and pulling himself up again.

Hank can only watch, mouth open in shock, as Gavin climbs the entire length of the building in less than a minute. It’s only when the officer disappears from his sight, having finally reached the top of the building, that Hank is able to snap himself out of his stupor.

“What the fuck!” He yells as he starts running out of the alley and into the street, scanning the rooftops for any sign of Gavin and the android.

They're hard to miss, the buildings around them are only a few stories tall and the android is scaring the living hell out of pigeons as it shoves anything it can find on Gavin’s path.

And Gavin leaps over every obstacle like it’s nothing, jumping from building to building without any hesitation.

Hank feels his heart stop whenever Gavin makes these jumps, and he tries his best to keep up with the chase above him, pushing civilians out of the way without apologizing. Not that he particularly cares at the moment.

Gavin and the android are forced to stop after a few blocks, the building they're on is on the corner of a large, busy street and its closest neighbor is a basketball court. The android will be forced to face Gavin if it doesn't want to take the damage of a five story fall.

Hank runs into the building, flashing his badge at whoever tries to stop him and climbing the stairs two at a time. He kicks down the roof access door, gun held up and ready to shoot the plastic fucker if it so much as touched a hair on his partner’s head.

Turns out, there was no need for him to worry, because the android is laying on the ground, hands cuffed behind it’s back, and Gavin is standing over it, one knee on it’s back and his gun aimed at the android’s head.

“What the fuck?” Hank asks eloquently.

Gavin turns his head towards him, smiling proud and predatory like. “Nice of ya to join the party, old man! Afraid it's already over though.” He says as he gestures to the android laying underneath him.

“How the hell did you manage to catch it on your own?” Hank asks, still trying to catch his breath from the chase and feeling one side of his face starting to bruise.

“I don’t go to the gym six days a week to get outrun by an overrated fucking piece of plastic.” Gavin shrugs, like it explains everything. “Besides, one good punch in the thirium pump and these tincan fold like a piece of paper.”

They bring the android back to the station, where there’s already a handful of CyberLife employees waiting for them. The android gets taken away and Hank and Gavin are stuck filling even more paperwork than they had this morning.

Yeah, Hank really fucking hates androids.

___

Hank is closing his computer when his phone rings. He curses as he picks up, recognizing officer Jonhson’s number.

“The fuck do you want?” is how he chooses to answer.

On the other end of the line, Jonhson chuckles, clearly used to his attitude after years of working at the same station. “Well, good evening to you too, Anderson. Glad to see you’re still as lovely as ever.”

“Cut the bullshit, Jonhson. What do you want?”

“Me? Oh nothing, really. But the dead body I’m standing next to just can’t wait to make your acquaintance. He even filled his basement with Red Ice just for you.”

“No.” Hank says, final. “I’m going home, find someone else.” He hangs up before Jonhson can say anything, shoving his phone in his pocket and grabbing his things with more force than necessary.

Over their desks, Gavin is looking at him with his eyebrows scrunched. “Why aren’t you going? I thought officer Jonhson only called you about stuff related to your cases?”

Hank pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “He does, but I can’t go tonight.”

“Why not? if it’s impo-”

“For fuck sake, kid!” Hank snaps, and immediately feels bad about raising his voice when he sees Gavin flinch at his outburst.

“Fuck, sorry.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Julia has a final tomorrow and I promised her I’d be home on time. And this happening tonight is just my fucking luck I guess.”

“I’ll do it.” Hank’s head snaps towards Gavin, who just shrugs nonchalantly. “I can watch over Cole for you. It’s not like they’ll let me walk in a crime scene by myself, I’m still just an officer, but they need you over there.”

Hank is silent as he looks at Gavin, weighting in his options. He hates spending more time than necessary away from Cole, and he has no idea if Gavin has any experience taking care of a child.

Gavin is looking at him with confidence, holding himself slightly straighter as he waits for an answer. But Hank can see clear as day how nervous the kid is.

Even though they’ve only been partners for a few months, Hank already knows he can trust Gavin with his life on the field. The kid is more dedicated than any officer he’s ever known, and fiercely loyal to boot.

But this feels drastically different. Cole isn’t work, Cole is Hank’s entire world, and Gavin is asking him to trust him with it.

He’s made his decision just as his phone starts ringing again. He looks at the floor, mutters something between a curse and a prayer, and looks back up at Gavin again. “You know my address?”

Gavin beams, his smile all teeth and pride. He tries to school his expression as he nods seriously, but it’s a fruitless effort. The kid is like a fucking open book.

Hank feels a ridiculous smile start to grow on his face as well. “Good. Julia can show you around when you get there.” He checks to make sure he still has his gun and badge, looking at Gavin one last time before he answers the phone. “I’ll try to be quick.”

Hank practically runs out the station, Gavin giving him a mock salute just before he’s out of sight, and Hank can’t help but think that Gavin might be the best thing that’s happened to him since Emilie left.

It’s almost two in the morning when he gets back home. He’s exhausted, every muscle in his body aching, and his vision is so blurry his key misses the lock on his first try.

The night had been a fucking mess. Turns out the house hadn’t been as abandoned as they thought. Forensics were still taking pictures of evidence when a man burst from a vent in the kitchen, shoved Hank on his ass, and ran out the back door.

The manhunt lasted almost two hours and ended with Hank having to wrestle the drugged-up man to the ground, earning himself a punch in the face and a solid kick to the ribs. He’d shoved the man in Jonhson’s patrol car and headed straight to the station, spending the rest of the night writing up a report and holding an ice pack to his quickly bruising jaw.

And now he just really fucking wants to sleep.

He finally manages to unlock the door and stumbles his way in, kicking off his shoes with a relieved sigh. Almost immediately, he’s on edge. The house is quiet, not a single sound greeting his arrival.

The house is never quiet. Sumo always waits for him at the door, barking up a storm and waking up everyone in the house. And when the giant puppy isn’t there, it’s because he’s too busy running around Julia, who’s trying her best to calm down a hysterically crying Cole.

He’s used to a home that’s always filled with noises, and the quiet is unsettling. Hank can feel his exhaustion leaving him, quickly replaced by anxiety. He tries to calm himself down, to remind himself that he trusts Gavin, that he’d told him he could take care of this and Hank knows that he always stays true to his words, but it does little to calm his erratic heartbeat or stop the worry that’s creeping over him.

A quick look at the living room and kitchen confirms that the rooms are empty. He looks at the bathroom briefly, just to be sure, but the result is the same. Nothing.

Next is Cole’s room, and Hank’s hands are starting to shake. Empty. The only movement in the room is coming from the night light, projecting soft blue stars on the ceiling.

Hank whirls around, opens the door to his own bedroom, and feels like an absolute fucking idiot.

Gavin is lying on his bed, over the covers and still fully clothed, one of his legs hanging awkwardly over the side of the bed from where it must have slipped off. Cole is sleeping on his chest, safely held in place by Gavin’s hands. Neither of them stirring at the sound of the door opening. Sumo, on the other hand, lifts his head from where it was resting on Gavin’s hip and lets out a small boof, tail wagging in excitement at seeing Hank.

Hank brings a finger to his lips and makes a small shushing noise, careful not to wake the two people sleeping on the bed. Sumo seems to share his concern, the big puppy laying his head back down with a sigh, his tail still wagging lazily behind him. Hank takes a few more seconds to look at the scene in front of him and he smiles, feeling something warm start to grow in his chest.

He goes to sleep on the couch because he can’t bear the thought of waking Gavin up and disturbing the peace in his bedroom. It doesn’t really matter anyway, the exhaustion of the day is quick to catch him, and he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the cushions.

Muffled cries wake him up, and his phone tells him he’s gotten about three hours of sleep. Hank sighs deeply as he sits up, it’s alright, he’s had worst.

He doesn’t have time to move further when his bedroom door opens, Gavin walking out, cradling a crying Cole and Sumo following on his heels. He spots Hank on the couch and gives him a soft, tired smile. “Go back to sleep, I got it.”

And Hank lays back down because if there’s one thing he’s learned tonight, it’s that he trusts Gavin.

Still, he doesn’t close his eyes, there’s no point in trying to sleep when Cole is still crying loudly. So instead he watches. Watches as Gavin starts to heat up some milk, talking softly to Cole as he does. He struggles to close the baby bottle with only one hand and almost spills half of it, but he manages to catch himself just in time, chuckling slightly to himself. He tests the heat of the milk and, with a satisfied nod, he turns and sits on the counter, propping his feet up on the kitchen table.

Ever so gently, Gavin shifts Cole so that he’s laying down in his arm, the baby immediately grabbing a tiny fistful of his shirt. The peaceful quiet comes back as soon as Cole starts drinking the milk, the only sound Hank can hear coming from the kitchen are Sumo’s paws as the dog walks back and forth along the counter, hoping to catch any spilled drop.

And that’s how Hank falls asleep, looking at Gavin who's trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes, and Cole, who’s wide green eyes are looking at Gavin like the man holds the entire world in the palm of his hands.

___

The sound of an argument is clear before he’s even passed the reception desk.

His jacket is clinging to him, soaking wet from the late October shower they’ve had this morning. He feels like shit, the beginning of a cold making his head pound obnoxiously.

The yelling is coming from the breakroom. That’s a shame, he would have really a warm cup of coffee before starting what is sure to be a real shit day. But he really doesn’t want to deal with whatever fucking idiot decided to get so riled up this early in the morning.

“I can’t phcking believe you, Chen!”

Ah fuck, that’s _his_ idiot.

Hank sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and slowly makes his way towards the breakroom.

The voices are getting louder the closer he gets.

“You’re allergic to cats, you dumbass.”

“And? They’re still clearly the superior animal here.”

“In your dreams, fucker. They’re useless. All they’re good at is eating and sleeping all day.”

“Oh, really. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Oh, you little-”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Hank cuts in, having finally, and begrudgingly, made his way to the breakroom.

“Hank!” Gavin whirls around so fast Hank thinks he might have given himself whiplash. “Thank fuck you’re here.” He shoves a mug of coffee in his hands and turns back towards Tina, cocky smile on his face.

The coffee’s slightly cooled, the temperature just right to drink without burning his tongue, two sugars, exactly how he likes it. Hank hums, pleasantly surprised, as he drinks his coffee and watches the two officers in front of him having a pissing match.

Tina rolls her eyes and laughs sharply. “Wow, you’re losing this argument so bad you need backup. Frankly Gav, I’m disappointed.”

Gavin crosses his arms and snarls at her. “Shut the fuck up, I ain’t losing shit. You should back down now before me and Hank start tearing you down.”

“In your dreams, fuckface.” Tina snarls back.

“Whoa, wait!” Hank interrupts, having finally registered Gavin’s words. “I’m not tearing anyone here down. What’s all this yelling even about anyway?”

“Well,” Gavin sneers. “Tina here thinks that dogs are better pets than cats. And I’m just trying to make her understand how fucking wrong she is.”

Hank decides that it’s too fucking early in the morning for this. He raises an eyebrow at Gavin and simply says: “Well, she’s right.”

The look of absolute betrayal Gavin gives him makes Hank bypass laughing entirely as he just starts wheezing, nearly spilling his coffee everywhere.

He has to grab the edge of the nearest table to keep his balance as he doubles over, laughing so hard he thinks he might die. He hears Tina laughing her ass off as well as Gavin storms off the breakroom, flipping the both of them off.

Gavin acts like a cranky bitch for the rest of the morning, snapping at everyone who dares to approach him. But every heated glance he throws over his desk only serves to make Hank laugh even harder.

___

Hank grumbles the whole way to the police station, Cole fast asleep in the back, blissfully unaware of his father’s constant swearing.

He can't believe he forgot his fucking phone one his desk when he left that afternoon, too eager to spend his first proper Christmas with Cole to really pay attention to his surroundings.

He swears again when his car skids on a patch of ice as he turns a corner.

The light snow that started falling this morning has coated all of Detroit in a thick white blanket. The Christmas lights hung all over the streets and on the buildings reflect on the fresh snow and make the whole city look magical.

Hank is just annoyed by it.

He's supposed to be home, drinking some hot chocolate and helping Cole unwrap his presents. Not driving back to work in the middle of the night with the streets covered in slippery white bullshit.

The parking lot is empty save for the car of the few unlucky bastards who have to work tonight. He gets out of his car and opens the door to the backseat, unlocking Cole from his car seat. His son stirs at the movement, wide green eyes blinking tiredly at him.

“Hey there buddy.” Hank smiles softly, brushing some of Cole’s light blond hair from his eyes. “Go back to sleep, we’ll be back home before you know it.”

The station is eerily quiet when Hank walks in, Cole fast asleep in his arms. The only people working tonight are a receptionist and a handful of officers, most of them on patrol for the rest of the night.

He nods cordially at the receptionist as he scans his badge on the front gate. She smiles back tiredly at him and doesn't mention the baby sleeping in his arms. He steps into the empty station and stops almost immediately.

The station isn't as empty as it should be.

There's a single person slumped against a desk, clearly asleep. But it's not just any desk, no, it's the desk right in front of Hank’s.

Hank furrows his brows, concern clear on his face, as he walks towards the space he shares with Gavin during the day.

Gavin is snoring lightly, hunched awkwardly over his desk, a half-finished cup of coffee going cold next to him.

Hank puts a hand on his shoulder and tries to wake him up gently. “Kid?”

Gavin wakes with a jolt, hand going to his hip to grab a gun that isn’t there and head snapping towards the sound of his voice. It takes him less than a second to recognize Hank and, when he does, his entire body relaxes and he slumps back into his chair.

“Oh…” Gavin sighs and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Hey, Hank.”

“Hey, kid.” Hank speaks quietly, mindful of the sleeping baby in his arm and because Gavin looks like he's five seconds away from falling asleep again. “What are you still doing here?”

Gavin blinks slowly and looks around, as if he's just now realizing where he is. “I wanted to finish the reports on the arrest we did yesterday.” A yawn escapes him and he rubs at his eyes again. “Guess I'm not used to the precinct being this quiet. Where'd everyone go anyway?”

“Home.” Hank says softly, trying to hide the sadness that’s creeping in his voice. “It's Christmas, Gavin.”

“... Oh.” Gavin looks down at his lap, softly drumming his finger on his desk. “I… I guess I should head back then.”

Hank doesn't have time to think before words are leaving his lips. “Come back home with us.”

Gavin’s head snaps up, looking at him with wide eyes. Hank tries his best to keep his expression open but neutral as the silence stretches on.

Finally, Gavin gets over his internal debate and he gets up with a tired sigh. “Yeah… Okay.” He holds his hands out towards Hank. “Let me hold him. Your old man's arms gotta be tired by now.”

Hank scoffs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, but he hands Cole over to Gavin without a word, the younger man cradling Cole close to his chest.

Hank grabs his phone on his desk and goes over to Gavin’s side to grab the coat that's draped over his chair. He drapes it lightly over Gavin’s shoulders, who mumbles something that sounds vaguely like a “Thanks.”

Hank hushers his boys out of the station and into the parking lot, snow crunching softly under their boots.

He takes Cole from Gavin’s arms once they reach the car, settling his son back into the car seat while Gavin goes to sit on the passenger side. This time, Cole doesn't even react to the movement and noises, staying fast asleep.

Gavin is down for the count before Hank even starts the car.

As Hank drives back home in silence, his window slightly rolled down to let in the crisp night air, he thinks that maybe there is something pretty about the way the Christmas lights reflect off the fresh snow.

___

“Hank!”

Hank wakes up abruptly at the scream. He jumps out of bed, almost falling flat on his face when his sheets tangle themselves around his ankles.

He throws the bedroom door open, practically running the short distance to the living room.

Gavin is sitting on the couch, Cole bouncing around on his lap. The younger man turns his head towards him, looking happier than he’s ever seen. “Hank, holy shit!”

“What?” Hank grumbles, hand flying to his chest where he’s pretty sure his heart is about to explode. “For fuck sake, don’t scare me like that.”

“Hank, holy shit!” Gavin repeats, like Hank hasn’t even spoken. He turns towards Cole again, bright smile never leaving his face, and he points to Sumo. The big puppy, feeling concerned by the conversation, walks over to sniff at Gavin’s hand.

“Who’s that, Cole?” Gavin asks the baby in his lap, so excited he practically laughs around the words.

Cole looks at where he’s pointing, giggling as Sumo starts slobbering all over the couch, and then-

“S’mo!”

“Holy shit.” Hank says, his attitude matching Gavin’s almost immediately. “Holy shit!”

They spend the rest of the afternoon trying to make Cole speak more, Hank and Gavin competing to see who’s able to make Cole say their name first, not realizing that they’d already lost that competition to Sumo.

___

Hank is the only one left at his table, the other detectives he'd been sitting with have all left him a long time ago.

In fact, everyone is gone now, the Gala having officially ended a few hours ago. A few of the more party inclined officers had stayed afterward but, as the hours went on, everyone had slowly dragged themselves home.

Everyone except a couple of very excited and _very_ drunk idiots.

Hank watches as Gavin stumbles through the room, holding hands with Tina who’s following close behind. They’re both giggling like schoolgirls, trying and failing not to bump into every chair that’s in their path.

They finally manage to find their seats, letting themselves collapse on their chair with all the grace of a newborn puppy. Gavin leans too far backward, making his chair topple and bringing him along with it. Tina laughs so hard she almost sends herself flying as well.

Hank chuckles to himself as well, watching as Gavin gets back up on unsteady legs and tries to sit down a second time, moving much more carefully this time.

Chris quietly walks up to Hank, greeting him with a tired smile, looking a bit worse for wear. Judging by the sound he’s heard the kid make earlier in the bathroom, he doesn’t have a lot of alcohol left in his system. But still, he prefers to ask. “You sure you’re okay to drive? I don’t mind giving the three of you a ride.”

“Nah.” Chris turns to look at his friends acting like overgrown toddlers and his smile becomes warmer. “We figured you’d take Gavin home so Tina agreed to let me crash on her couch since her place is only a few blocks from here.”

Hank can’t help but laugh. He hadn’t even asked Gavin if he had any plan after the party, had just taken for granted that he’d be bringing the kid home after. He’s really gone soft with age.

He huffs and places a warm hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Alright kid, be safe.”

“We will. Goodnight Hank.” And then he’s gone, dragging a wobbly Tina behind him. She only has time to scream her goodbyes at Gavin before the door closes behind her.

Hank makes his way to his own drunk idiot, who’s still waving goodbye even if there’s no possible way that Tina can still see him.

Gavin doesn't notice he's next to him, looking at the closed doors and smiling wide. Hank puts a hand on his shoulder, making Gavin’s attention snap to him.

His eyes are glazed over, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and then: “Hank! Where the phck have you been! This party is the shit!”

“The party’s over, kid.”

Gavin looks around, eyes wide, like he’s just now realizing that the huge ballroom is completely empty, save for a staff member busy cleaning up the bar. “... Oh.”

Gavin looks like a lost puppy and Hank laughs at him. “Jesus fuck, how much did you have to drink?”

“Uhm…” He drums his finger on the table as he thinks, looking everywhere but at Hank. “... A lot?”

Hank sighs, but there's no real heat behind the action. “Alright kid, get up, I'm bringing you home.”

Gavin beams, smiling so wide his eyes close, and he nods as he tries to stand up without wavering.

Hank laughs as he watches Gavin struggle to stand up, not helping him in the slightest. “Do you still have your keys, at least?”

Gavin visibly deflates at his words, bright smile replaced by a sad pout. “Yes… Why?”

“So you can get inside your apartment.” Hank says in the same tone he uses to explain to Cole that he can’t feed Sumo all the vegetables he doesn’t like to eat.

“Oh… Okay.” Gavin looks so fucking pathetic it makes worry squeeze its way in Hank’s chest.

“Hey.” Hank grabs Gavin’s shoulder, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, s’just…” Gavin trails off, looking back down at his shoes. “You said we were going home…”

Hank feels his breath stutter, something in his chest squeezes and the lump in his throat makes it hard to speak. “Alright, yeah. We’re going home, kid.”

Gavin sleeps for the entire car ride back home, and Hank has to hold him upright for the entire walk from the car to the front door of the house. He doesn’t know how he manages to keep them both from falling over.

Julia smiles as she watches them stumble inside, Gavin making exaggerated shushing noises at every sounds he deems too loud. Which is all of them, apparently.

She’s picked up all her things and has her jacket on before Hank is even able to wrestle Gavin on the couch. “Goodnight.” She says as she opens the door, and then snorts when her eyes land on Gavin, who’s halfway between sitting on the couch and laying on the coffee table. “And good luck.”

And then she’s gone, leaving Hank to take care of a very drunk Gavin and a very curious Sumo.

And apparently Gavin has decided that Sumo is the most interesting thing in the room, because Hank is only gone in the kitchen for a few seconds to get a glass of water, and when he comes back, Gavin is gone from the couch and is instead sitting cross-legged in front of the dog's bed. He’s petting Sumo almost reverently, making long and exaggerated strokes along the dog’s back as he holds a one-sided conversation with him.

“You know you’re a good boy, Sumo? Yes, you are! Because, you know, I don’t really like dogs. Nope!” He accentuates his point by vigorously shaking his head. “But you’re such a good boy, how can anyone not like you?” He spreads out his arms and lifts his head up, like he’s asking the question to the entire universe.

And then just as quickly, Gavin deflates, arms falling down to his side. “You wanna know why I don’t like dogs, Sumo?” Gavin’s voice has gone quiet, more serious than Hank has heard all night. He starts rolling up the sleep of his dress shirt until most of his upper arm is visible. “You see this?” He asks Sumo, pointing to a spot on his arm. Sumo holds his head up to sniffs at it curiously before looking back at Gavin, head tilted to the side and tail wagging lazily from side to side. “You can’t really see it now, but that’s where dad’s dog bit me. There was so much fucking blood, I had to get stitches and shit. ‘Been terrified of dogs since.”

And then Gavin snorts, his mood shifting drastically again. “Fuck, Sumo, could you imagine if it was you? You’re so phcking big! You could’ve ripped my whole arm off!” Gavin laughs and starts petting Sumo again, his entire drunken focus still on the dog.

Hank should really do something before Gavin says something he might regret, but he’s too late. Gavin’s drunk rambling picks up again before he has time to think of something to say.

“I don’t blame her, y’know?” His voice has gone quieter again. “I did, for a little bit, but then I understood dad was hitting her like he hit mom and me. I would have bitten someone too if I was her. Fuck, I did bite a few people in elementary school." Gavin laughs, the sound completely humorless this time.

“But I know you won’t bite me, Sumo.” Gavin shakes his head, using his free hand to wipe furiously at his eyes. “I know you won’t, because you got no reason to be afraid of people.”

Fuck, Hank needs to stop this now. He can’t let Gavin continue to spill his heart out while he’s this drunk. “Gavin?”

Gavin flinches at the sound of his voice, looking at Hank with wide eyes like he’d forgotten he was there at all.

“Come here, kid.” Hank says as he sits down on the couch, patting the spot next to him.

Gavin gets up slowly, making his way on the couch with wobbly legs. He lets himself fall down as he sits, his entire body sinking in the cushion. Hank doesn’t say anything as he hands him the glass of water he brought from the kitchen, and Gavin accepts it just as silently.

They sit in silence as Gavin finishes drinking, Hank not knowing what to say to break the uncomfortable stillness of the room. Gavin is speaking again before Hank has time to find the right words.

“Fowler yelled at me today, y’know.”

No, Hank didn’t know.

“Well, he didn’t actually yell, he just got mad.” Gavin continues, putting the now empty glass on the coffee table. “I guess he wasn't actually mad either, just… concerned I guess.”

“What happened?” Hank asks softly when it seems like Gavin won't elaborate.

“He wanted to know why I didn’t have anyone listed as my next of kin in my file. I only gave him some vague ass answers because I didn't feel like spewing my life story to him. He let me off the hook because he’s a nice fucking guy like that. I can see why the two of you are friends.” Gavin snorts, his words coming out quick and slurred. “And it’s kinda fucking ironic that he asked about it today, y’know? Because I’ve been trying to ask you to sign the fucking papers for over a week now, but I’m always too chicken shit to actually talk to you about it. Which is fucking stupid, anyways. They’re just stupid fucking papers, they don’t mean anything and it’s okay if you don’t wanna sign them. I should’ve probably just asked Fowler to leave the space blank, it’s not that important. It’s just… phck.”

There’s a lot of things Hank wants to say to Gavin right now. He settles for the first he can think of. “I’m never going to hurt you, Gavin. You know that, right?”

“You will. Everyone does.” Gavin makes a sound between a laugh and a sob, turning his head away from Hank. “But that’s okay, I know you won’t mean to.”

Hank wants to deny it, but the sound of a door opening stops him.

Cole’s footsteps are barely audible as he walks barefoot down the hallway and into the living room.

“Gavy?”

Gavin’s head snaps up at the sound of the little voice, eyes going wide as he realizes Cole is standing right next to him. He rubs his tears away furiously as he takes a shuddering breath. “Hey Cole. Are you alright?”

Cole nods hesitantly, looking at Gavin seriously. Well, as seriously as a three years old in a dinosaur onesie can look at someone. “Nightmare, Gavy?”

Gavin laughs, the sound shaky and humorless. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Cole takes a few steps forward, looking determined as he takes hold of one of Gavin’s hand, gently placing his stuffed animal in it. “You can have Berry. He keeps nightmares away.”

Gavin clutches the small Shiba Inu plush like a lifeline, not bothering to hide the tears rolling down his cheeks. “T-thanks Cole.”

"Alright.” Hank says, his own voice trembling slightly. He gets up from the couch and picks Cole up in his arms. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Cole doesn’t complain, letting Hank bring him back to his room and tucking him in without a word. Hank kisses him goodnight and closes the door behind him as he leaves, Cole already falling back asleep.

In the living room, Gavin is no longer sitting on the couch. Instead, he’s laying down, clutching the stuffed dog tight against his chest and already fast asleep.

Hank drapes a blanket over him, making sure he’s comfortable and won’t risk falling on the floor at any second. He gives Sumo a few pats on the head and makes his way to his bedroom, sending Jeffrey a very important email before he goes to sleep.

___

Gavin barely has time to step into the threshold before he’s tackled by a little body throwing itself full force at him. He makes a small sound of surprise as he stumbles back a little, not expecting to be assaulted just as he came home.

But Gavin is quick to recover, grabbing Cole by the armpit and maneuvering him on his shoulders. Cole giggles all the while, delighted by the height his new perch brings him.

Gavin looks at Hank sitting in the kitchen, question clear on his face, but Hank can only look at the both of them with a fond smile.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Gavin snorts. “What’s all the excitement about? You’re never that happy to see me.”

Cole pouts, not that Gavin can see him. “I am!” But the frown disappears from his face as quickly as it came, bright smile in its place. “But today is veeeery special.”

“Mhm.” Gavin hums as he takes off his shoes, careful not to let Cole fall. “And why is that?”

Cole laughs, lightly tapping Gavin on the head. “It’s cuz’ it’s your birthday Gavy!”

Gavin trails off on his way to the kitchen, eyes going wide. “Oh… right, yeah.”

And really, Hank is starting to get worried about how often this kid forgets about important holidays.

“Yes!” Cole continues, just as excitedly. “That means we get cake and presents!” He throws his arms up in emphasis, slapping Gavin upside the head as he does.

Gavin laughs as he walks into the kitchen, bending down so Cole can move from his shoulders to the countertop. “What’s all this ‘we’ stuff? I thought you said it was _my_ birthday?”

“Whatever.” Cole huffs, crossing his arm over his chest. And at that moment, his son looks so much like Gavin that Hank has to take a deep breath to stop the fluttering in his chest. Thankfully, his boys don’t notice the sudden shift in his mood, too busy bickering with one another.

“It’s a birthday party, it means everyone gets cake! But first, you gotta change.” Cole says as he slides down the counter, sticking his tongue out at Gavin.

“Why?” Gavin puts a hand on his chest in mock offense. “What’s wrong with my uniform?”

“Everything.” Cole tells him seriously.

Gavin snorts, but follows the order without complaints, going to the bathroom to change into one of the spare outfits he has in the house. As soon as the door closes behind him, Cole is up again, practically bouncing around the kitchen.

“Come on dad!” He whispers-yell. “We gotta get the cake out, quick!”

“Alright, alright. I’m working on it.” He gets off his seat slowly, purposefully exaggerating his movements because he knows it’ll rile up Cole. “Why don’t you go get your present while I do that.”

Cole's eyes light up and he sprints down the hall, slamming open the door to his room and scaring the living hell out of Sumo. He makes it back to the kitchen barely a few seconds before Gavin does.

“I made you this!” Cole says as he all but shoves his present into Gavin’s hands.

Gavin rolls his eyes, but he’s careful as he unfolds the mess of glitter and construction paper that makes up his birthday card. The main part of the card is a bright blue and green and white stars of all shape and size are stuck all over it. ‘Gavy’ is written on the front of it in big, bold, glittery letters.

Hank doesn’t know what’s written inside it. Cole had insisted on keeping it a secret, had even asked Julia for help with writing the words. As Gavin reads, his smile slowly starts to drop, eyes going wide.

“Do you like it?” Cole asks hesitantly, not quite knowing what to make of Gavin’s reaction.

Gavin is silent for a few seconds before he grabs Cole into a bone-crushing hug, hiding his face in his hair. “It’s perfect, Cole. Thank you.”

Cole beams, patting Gavin on the back. “I’m glad you like it.”

Gavin lets him go soon after, straightening himself up on his chair, rubbing at his eyes and sniffing loudly, pretending really hard like he’s not about to burst into tears. Hank takes pity on him and decides that now is the perfect time to use the most effective mood lifter ever known to mankind: cake.

He lights up a few candles and puts the cake, a really simple vanilla one with chocolate frosting that’s colored blue because that’s Cole's favorite color, on the table. They sing Gavin Happy birthday, Sumo even joining in with a few excited barks.

Gavin thinks of what he wants his wish to be for a few seconds and then he smiles, blowing off his candles with Cole’s help.

“What’d you wish for, Gavy!” Cole asks, bouncing up and down his seat.

Gavin sticks his tongue out at him, using this as a distraction so he can swipe some frosting from the cake and smears it all over Cole’s cheeks. “I’m not telling ya, ‘cuz if I do it won’t come true.”

___

Hank is so fucking angry he could punch something. He’d been slowly working his way up a chain of red ice suppliers for months now, painstakingly gathering evidence to build a solid case in court.

And today, a rookie officer who was over-eager to prove himself had gone and arrested one of his most important suspects. Without any proper evidence to accuse her of _anything_.

He lets Jeffrey have the pleasure of ripping the officer a new one for being such a fucking idiot. Usually, he’d be more than happy to take part in the yelling match, but today’s different.

He’s got much bigger fish to fry.

This fish in particular is named Madeline Gracia, forty-three years old, rich as fuck, and may or me not be the owner of a highly illegal sex club.

And, thanks to officer fuckface, Hank has twenty-four hours to pull enough evidence out of his ass to be able to incriminate her. So, yeah, he’s fucking furious.

He tries to interrogate Madeline, but the woman is as talkative as a brick wall. He tries to remain calm, to reason with her, but she stays unshakable and it makes him snap.

Madeline only looks at him in mild disgust after his outburst, picking at her carefully manicured nails.

Hank slams the door of the observation room on his way in, cursing loudly. Gavin doesn’t pay him any attention, too focused on the folders of reports and evidence spread on the desk in front of him.

“This is a fucking waste of time!” Hank snarls as he throws himself on the chair that’s facing the two-way mirror. “I’m never gonna be able to get anything on her in less than a day. And now that she knows we’re unto her, she’ll be un-funking-touchable as soon as she steps out of this station.” Hank slams his fists against the desk in front of him, frustration getting the best of him. “All this fucking work, wasted by a fucking moron.”

“Actually… '' Gavin speaks up hesitantly, drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk. “I got an idea. But I’d have to be the one that’s going in.”

They both know Gavin can’t go interrogate her. Even though he’s been Hank’s partner for almost two years now, he’s still just an officer. The only way he could be allowed to conduct an interrogation is if Fowler had given them outright approval.

Thankfully for them, Hank is too pissed to give a shit about stupid rules. “Alright kid, knock yourself out.”

Hank knows the lecture Fowler is bound to give is completely worth it when he sees Gavin smile wide, eyes shining with excitement, before he runs out of the room. He’s gone for a few minutes, and Hank is seriously starting to wonder what the hell the kid is up to, when Gavin finally walks into the interrogation room, holding a cup of coffee.

And completely decked out in his officer uniform, cap included. Gavin never wears his cap, no matter how much shit Fowler gives him for it.

And that, if nothing else, makes Hank raise and eyebrow. The kid never wears his uniform when he’s working on cases with Hank, always more than happy to be allowed to wear his civvies to work. He’s confused, but he trusts that the kid has a plan.

Gavin walks towards the lone table, putting the steaming cup of coffee in front of Madeline with a small smile.

Her eyes trail over him before falling back on the cup. “What is this?” She scoffs. “I thought this good cop, bad cop thing was reserved for shabby sitcoms.”

Gavin tilts his head to the side in a perfect imitation of a confused puppy. “I’m sorry miss Garcia, I’m not sure I get what you’re saying.”

She rolls her eyes, looking at Gavin like one might look at a particularly naive child. “I’ve made it pretty clear that I have nothing to discuss with that… barbaric detective from earlier. It’s only logical that they send some fresh meat to try a different tactic. I’ll tell you right now, you’re wasting your time.”

Gavin shrugs and puts his hands on his hips. “They might try and do that but, if it can reassure you ma'am, I’m not a detective. Just an officer.”

Madeline considers him for a moment, brows slightly furrowed. “Then why are you here, officer Reed?”

Gavin looks down at his chest in surprise, like he’d forgotten the little metal tag with his name on it was even there. “Well…” he drawls as he looks back up, looking sheepish. “I wanted to bring you coffee. And, uhm.” He rubs the back of his neck, voice going much lower at his next words. “I know detective Anderson has a reputation of being more aggressive towards pretty la- Uh, I mean, more, uh, beautiful women. So I just wanted to make sure you were okay…” He trails off, unsure, as a blush starts to creep up his cheeks.

Madeline smiles, her eyes trailing over Gavin again, though much slower this time. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. But your concern is appreciated, officer Reed.”

Gavin nods, charming smile on his lips. “Please call me Gavin, miss Garcia.”

She laughs, throwing her head back in a way that exposes the lines of her throat. “Of course, Gavin. And you may call me Madeline.” She looks down at the cup of coffee and then back up at Gavin, smile turning predatory. “But do tell me, darling, how am I supposed to drink this while my hands are cuffed to the table?” She lightly tugs at the restrain to show her point.

“Oh, I didn’t…” He looks at the door behind him and then back at the woman who’s smiling sickly sweet at him. “If I uncuff you, can you promise me you won’t tell anyone?”

“My lips are sealed.” Madeline winks and her eyes follow every movement Gavin makes as he comes closer to the table and bends forwards slightly to unlock the handcuffs.

She sighs as her hands are freed, rubbing at the slightly reddened skin of her wrists. “Thank you Gavin, this feels much better.”

Gavin nods politely and sits down on the opposite chair, arms loosely folded over his chest. They stay quiet for a few minutes, Madeline slowly drinking her coffee and Gavin pretending he doesn’t notice her eyes roaming all over him.

Madeline is the one who finally breaks the silence. “Is it just me, or is the heat in this room quite unbearable?” She’s wearing a light yellow sundress and isn’t sweating at all.

Gavin nods. “It’s always like this in the summer. The DPD doesn’t spend much of its budget on decent ac units.”

“Look at me, I’m barely wearing anything and I feel like I could melt! I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you, all buttoned up in your uniform.” The predatory smile is back on her face, cup of coffee forgotten at the edge of the table.

“Ah, it’s alright miss Madeline. You don’t have to worry about me.” Gavin rubs the back of his neck, looking down at the table as he starts to blush again.

“Quite the contrary, sweetheart.” Madeline leans on the table, making her breasts push up ever so slightly, and tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “You were kind to me, I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Hank can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Gavin takes off his cap, leaving it beside him on the table, and runs a hand through his hair. A few strands fall in front of his eyes, but he ignores them in favor of rolling up his sleeves as high as they can go. Which is about the middle of his upper arms, the bunched-up fabric of his shirt straining against his biceps. Then he unbuttons his shirt, undoing many more buttons than what’s appropriate for someone who’s only looking to cool off.

When he looks back up at Madeline, cheeks flushed and a shy smile on his lips, he looks more like a cheap stripper than a police officer. Hank is so fucking proud of him.

Madeline never takes her sight off Gavin, eyes shamelessly trailing over every inch of skin she can see. “Tell me Gavin, when was the last time someone took care of you?”

She doesn’t give him time to answer before she bends over the table, pushing her chest against Gavin’s arms as she whispers something in his ears.

Gavin stays frozen in surprise at the unexpected movement, eyes going wider and cheeks growing redder with every word Madeline says. Suddenly, he pushes himself away from the table, getting up so fast he almost topples his chair. “A-Alright, t-thank you miss Madeline.” He stammers as he walks backwards towards the door.

He fumbles with the control panel, trying to open the door without taking his eyes off Madeline, who’s sitting back down, smiling as if nothing happened.

“H-have a pleasant evening miss Madeline.” And with that, Gavin is gone, the door of the interrogation room slamming shut behind him. Hank can only watch with wide eyes as Gavin walks back in the observation room, buttoning up his shirt and grinning like a madman.

“I got us an address we should probably check out.” Gavin clicks his tongue and winks with both eyes.

Hank is torn between slapping him or hugging him. He settles on saying: “Kid, you’re a fucking menace.”

___

Gavin looks hilariously out of place standing at the back of a kindergarten class in his full police uniform. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed across his chest, the dark navy blue of his outfit clashing horribly with the bright crayon drawings he’s surrounded with.

He's trying to look like he’s tough shit, scowling and looking above everyone, but Hank knows better. Gavin looks more nervous than the first time he’d met him in Fowler’s office.

Hank forces his attention to shift when the child that’s standing in front of the class stops speaking and the people around him start clapping. Cole also seems to think that clapping for his classmates by slapping Hank’s thighs with all his might is a wonderful idea.

Cole’s teacher steps in front of the class, clapping and smiling widely. “Thank you so much for telling us about your aunt today, Emma. You did a wonderful job!”

The girl, Emma, beams as her and her aunt go back to sit at their spot on the floor.

“Alright then!” The teacher continues once the class has settled down. “Who wants to go next?”

Cole, who was sitting quietly in his dad’s lap up until that point, almost jumps up, waving his hands wildly and almost smacking Hank in the face.

The teacher looks around the class, considering all the students whose hands are raised, before choosing who’s next. “Cole, you’re up next. Is your dad the one you wanted to tell us about today?”

Cole springs up, clutching the paper he needs for his presentation. “Nope!” He beams, puffing out his chest in pride. “I wanted to talk about Gavy ‘cus he’s the coolest.”

Gavin seems to take this as his cue to detach himself from the wall and walk towards the front of the class. He stands in a loose military rest position right behind Cole, looking like he’s second away from bolting out the door. Or maybe throw up. Whichever comes first.

Hank can’t help but chuckle at how unbelievably nervous Gavin looks. He’s seen the kid trash talk convicted murderers that were twice his size without blinking. But standing in front of a room filled with six-year-olds is making him shake in his boots.

Hank is never going to stop teasing him about it.

At the front of the class, Cole clears his throat as he starts reading his paper.

“This is Gavin. I have known him all my life and he is my best friend. I wanted to talk about him today because I think Gavin is the coolest person I know. He is funny and always wants to play with me and my dog Sumo. Also, he protects my dad when they work together, just like a superhero! When I grow up, I know I want to be just like him.”

Cole lowers his paper, looking at his classmates with a wide smile. They start clapping for him, but a voice breaks through the sound.

“Is he really a superhero?”

Gavin blinks at the unexpected question. “No, I’m just-”

“Of course he is!” Cole interupts indignantly, putting his hands on his hips. “He protects people and is super strong, just like a superhero!”

“How strong are you?” A girl at the back of the class asks.

“Uhm… I don’t-”

“Can you do a pushup with someone on your back?” Another kid interjects. “Cuz you have to be reaaaally strong to do that!”

“Uh, well, I’ve never tried it, but I’m pretty sure I could.” Gavin shrugs, like what he’s saying isn’t the most awesome thing these kids have heard all day.

Cole’s eyes grow wide then. “Gavy, can you do a pushup with me on your back?”

Gavin snorts and rolls his eyes. “Alright.”

He gets on his knees, but before he can go further down, another boy speaks up. “Wait, that doesn’t count! Cole isn’t even heavy.”

“Oh yeah?” Gavin grins at the boy. “How about if you’re on my back as well, is that better?”

The kid nods enthusiastically, practically running towards the front of the class. Gavin settles into a pushup position on the floor and both boys waste no time to climb on him. Gavin has to shift his weight every time the boys move, Cole almost ends up face-first on the floor a few times, but soon enough he’s able to find his balance.

He doesn’t quite move yet though. Instead, he looks at a girl sitting quietly near the front and gives her a warm smile. “Wanna climb on as well?”

She looks at him with wide eyes and nods enthusiastically, her cheeks turning red.

There are a few more seconds of shuffling around as the girl gets settled on his back as well, and finally, Gavin looks satisfied with the additional weight. “Can you guys count to ten with me?”

And then Gavin proceeds to do ten perfect pushups with three kindergarteners sitting on his back. The class is in absolute uproar, every child counting with more vigor after every push, a few adults even joining in.

Once he reaches ten, the class erupts in thunderous applause. Gavin gets up and dusts his knees, face red from the effort and embarrassment.

It takes the teacher a good few minutes to get the class back in order and, later, Gavin apologizes profusely about causing such a racket.

Cole speaks about nothing but the presentation for the entire evening, no matter how many times Gavin tries to change the topic of their conversations. And Hank finds his embarrassment way too fucking funny to help him out.

___

“Hank!”

He feels something hit him as a gunshot echo in the warehouse, the sound of it deafening.

Hank lands flat on his ass, momentarily disoriented by what just happened. One moment, he’s standing and looking at an empty hallway, and the next he’s on the ground, looking at a splatter of red on the concrete.

He gets back to himself when the shooter starts running, the sound of footsteps snapping him out of his haze. He’s quick to get on his knees as he draws his own gun from its holster.

He shoots twice. Precise. One in the chest and one in the leg.

The fucker stumbles, but doesn’t fall, managing to disappear around a corner before Hank can shoot again. He starts to get up, ready to start their annoying game of hide and seek again, when he realizes he doesn’t have a single fucking scratch on him even though he's just been shot.

Hank whirls around, mind finally supplying him with the details of where all this red came from.

Gavin is lying on his back on the concrete floor, his legs slightly bent. His right arm is lying limp on his side, and his left arm is curled around his stomach, trying in vain to stop the blood that’s quickly soaking his shirt.

“Gavin!”

Hank throws himself next to the kid, pushing his arm away so that he can press on the wound with both of his hands. Gavin makes a gurgling sound and starts coughing up blood, his stomach spasming against Hank’s hands.

“Shit! Fuck!” Hank has seen a few people get shot in the stomach before, but he doesn’t remember any of them bleeding so fucking much so quickly. Gavin’s shirt is already completely drenched, blood pulsing from between Hank’s fingers in time with his erratic heartbeat. The floor is becoming redder with every second that passes, the puddle forming underneath them is already soaking Hank’s knees.

Gavin chokes on a mouthful of blood, lips forming soundless words. He lifts a hand towards Hank, trying to grab his arm, but his grip is too weak and his hand too slippery with blood for him to be able to take hold.

“It's okay. It's okay.” Hank sounds wrecked, voice unsteady and breaths coming short. “It's okay kid, help is on the way.”

Hank takes one of his hands off Gavin’s stomach and reaches inside his pocket to take his phone. His hand is shaking so badly and is so slick with blood that he almost drops it twice before he manages to dial 911.

He talks to the operator in short, clipped sentences, only telling them the bare minimum he needs to get an ambulance as soon as possible. The second he gets confirmation that help is on the way, he hangs up, letting his phone drop on the floor and putting his hand back on Gavin’s stomach.

Gavin gasps, struggling to take a breath through all the blood in his mouth. There are tears rolling down his quickly paling face, his eyes are glazed over, looking blindly at the ceiling.

“Hey!” Hank shouts, pressing impossibly stronger on Gavin’s stomach. “Stay with me kid! T-talk to me!”

“... Hank?” The word is strained, barely audible, but Gavin shifts his eyes to focus on him. “Hank, are y-” His voice cuts off with a gasp, struggling to take a breath. “Y-you okay?”

Hank huffs a laugh to try and get rid of the lump in his throat. “Me? Funking peachy. All thanks to you kid.”

“S’ good.” Gavin nods, or at least he tries to, his head wobbling weekly from side to side. “Y-yeah that’s...” He wheezes, more blood flowing from his lips. “... good.”

Gavin blinks sluggishly, gaze going unfocused again.

“Hey! Look at me! Stay with me kid, t-talk to me.”

Gavin’s only answer is to start coughing uncontrollably, his whole body convulsing with each strained gasp of air.

Hank can feel every spasm of Gavin’s body underneath his hands, warm blood flowing through his fingers as though he wasn't applying any pressure at all. It probably lasts a few seconds, but Hank feels like it takes hours for Gavin to stop coughing, his body finally going still except for the uncontrollable shaking in his limbs.

“Hank?” Gavin’s voice is so quiet that Hank thinks he imagined it at first.

“I’m here, Gavin. It’s okay kid, I’m right here.”

“I-I’m…” Gavin chokes, his shaking becoming worse. “I’m scared.”

And then someone is grabbing Hank from behind and yanking him backward.

In his panic, Hank doesn't understand what's happening. All he knows is that there are hands grabbing at him and pulling him away from Gavin. He fights them with all of his strength, kicking and punching anything he can reach.

It's only when the paramedics have Gavin on a stretcher and out of the building that Hank seems to remember himself. He goes limp, all the fight suddenly leaving him.

“I-it’s gonna be okay Hank. Gavin, he’s- he's gonna be okay.”

Hank turns his head towards the voice and recognizes one of the officers that's holding him. It's Chris. He’s looking at the pool of blood on the floor, his eyes wide and filled with tears.

“Y-yeah.” Hank’s voice is shaky, trembling along with his whole body. As much as he wants to reassure the young officer, he doesn't think he can get any more words out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha don't worry, he's fine!! ... right??  
> ((also I don't know how I managed to write 10k words in less than a week but please don't expect this to happen ever again jsfghdg))


	3. Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead!!!! I'm sorry for such a long wait, this chapter was a real struggle to write. But I did it!!!! As usual, this chapter is barely edited and not beta read, so forgive me for any mistake!! Thank you so much for sticking around, I hope you enjoy!!! <3

“Hank.”

…

“Hank?”

Something heavy lands on his shoulder, and Hank is snapped out of his daze. He can't bring his eyes to look away from his blood-caked hands, dried specks of red falling on the ground as he rubs his fingers together. The small plastic chair he's sitting on is uncomfortable, but the pain in his back is almost grounding, different from how numb the rest of his body feels.

He's vaguely aware that Jeffrey is looking at him, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. So Hank grunts, eyes never leaving his hands.

“What?” His voice is weak, tired, but it echoes loudly in the silence of the ER waiting room.

“You need to go clean yourself up, Hank.” Jeffrey is talking to him softly, like he's some kind of wounded animal.

Hank hates it. “I’m fine.”

“And I’m the queen of England.” Jeffrey says drily. “Go home, Hank. Clean yourself up and get some sleep. I’ll call you when there’s any news about Gavin.”

“No.”

Jeffrey sighs, shaking his head, but he doesn’t try to argue. He’s been friends with Hank to know there’s no changing his mind tonight. “Fine. But at least call Julia, you were supposed to be home hours ago. She’s gotta be worried sick.”

And that seems to stir something awake in Hank’s muddled brain. Jeffrey’s right, Julia must be pretty concerned by now. He doesn’t know what time it is, but the sun has set a long time ago. And Cole…

Oh fuck. Cole must be absolutely panicked. What must he be thinking, when neither his dad nor Gavin have come home from work today.

Hank snaps up, more awake than he’s been in God knows how many hours since he’s been sitting in the waiting room. He pats his pockets in search of his phone before realizing that it’s still lying on the concrete floor of the warehouse, covered in blood.

Before he can even voice his problem, Jeffrey is thrusting his own phone in his hands, a sad smile on his face. “I’ll come get you if anything happens.”

Hank nods his thanks and quickly steps out of the waiting room, phone clutched tightly in his trembling hands.

The cold night air sends a shiver down his spine, and Hank takes a few seconds to breathe deeply before dialing Julia’s number. She picks up on the second ring.

“Hello?” Her voice is unsteady, almost like she’s out of breath, and Hank feels absolutely awful.

“Hey, Julia…”

“Oh my fucking God! Hank! Where are you? What happened? A-are you okay? Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” And Hank knows he sounds like anything but fine.

“Hank…” Julia’s voice has lowered down considerably, having gotten her initial panic under control. “What’s going on?”

“I’m…” Hank doesn’t think he can get the words out, but if anyone deserves to know what’s happening, it’s Julia. So he takes a deep breath and tries to keep the bile from rising in his throat as he speaks. “I’m at the hospital. W-we were on a case and Gavin… Gavin’s-”

Hank can’t go on, he’s breathing too fast, tears blurring his vision and he can’t keep the image of Gavin, eyes glassy and chest covered in blood, out of his mind. It takes a moment before Julia speaks again, and Hank latches onto her voice, putting his focus on her instead of the horrible memory his brain won’t stop bringing up.

“It’s… It’s going to be okay, Hank. I can stay here tonight.” She pauses, trying to compose herself. “I can stay as long as you need. You don’t have to worry about anything, just stay with him. I’ll take care of Cole.”

“Thank you, Julia.” Two simple words will never be enough to express the gratitude he feels towards her, but for now, it has to be enough.

“Of course. And Gavin is… Gavin’s stubborn as fuck.” She gives a small, wet chuckle. “He’s not leaving you and Cole alone. Not without one hell of a fight.”

“Yeah.” Hank isn’t relieved, far from it, but it’s the closest to being hopeful he’s been in hours. “Yeah, you’re right. Goodnight Julia.”

He hangs up, and he’s breathing a little bit easier than when he first stepped outside.

___

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on the small chair next to Gavin’s bed, watching the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, when the door opens.

“Fuck, Hank, have you even gone once home since the last time I saw you?”

His silence is all the answer Jeffrey needs.

“I’m sending Chen in later. If she tells me you didn’t leave this room for at least an hour, I’m firing you. Are we clear?”

Hank doesn’t look up from Gavin’s chest, like he’d suddenly stop breathing if he doesn’t watch him. “Did you only come in here to bust my balls?”

“No.” Jeffrey hesitates on his next words, like he knows Hank won’t like them. He sighs and takes something out of his pocket. “I’m here because I have to give you this.”

He thrust his hand forward, and the object he’s holding shines as it catches the light of the room. It’s a badge, and a brand new one at that. It has Hank’s name on it and, right above that…

“Congratulations, lieutenant Anderson.” Jeffrey says in a voice that holds absolutely no cheer.

Hank always thought that he’d be exhilarated to receive that badge, the thing he’d spent the last few years working so hard for. But right now all he feels is cold rage, his hands shaking as he tries to contain his anger. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Jeffrey doesn’t move and his expression stays perfectly neutral. “Just take the fucking badge, Hank. Then I can say I’ve done my job and I’ll leave you alone.”

Hank slowly rises from his chair, hands curled into tight fists. “I’m not taking it.”

Jeffrey sighs, seeming to deflate. “Hank-”

Hank doesn’t let him finish, taking a menacing step forward as his knuckles start to turn white from how tightly he’s clenching them. “I’m not taking it.”

Jeffrey shakes his head, looking at him with barely concealed disappointment. “You can’t throw away your whole career because you made a mistake.”

“A mistake!” Hank yells, no longer able to contain his fury. “You think putting Gavin in a coma is just a fucking mistake? I fucked up, Jeff! I fucked up worse than I’ve ever done before. And now I-” His eyes land on Gavin, who could look like he’s sleeping if it wasn’t for the unnatural paleness of his skin, and he feels all his anger leave him, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

He lets himself fall back on the chair, anything else he would have wanted to say to Jeffrey is completely forgotten.

“An artificial coma, Hank.” Jeffrey says, ever the voice of reason, sounding more like his captain than his friend. “He’s going to wake up soon enough. You have to trust that he’s strong enough to pull himself through. And think about it for more than a second, would you? How do you think the kid’s gonna feel when he wakes up and you tell him you lost your chance as lieutenant because of him?”

Hank doesn’t say anything, not really knowing what to answer. Jeffrey squeezes his shoulder and takes his leave. He’d done what he came here to do, there’s no point in staying longer than he has to.

___

He doesn’t exactly avoid Cole, but he doesn’t go out of his way to be home at the same time as him either.

He only ever leaves the hospital when Tina or Chris come to watch over Gavin in between their shifts. And even then, he barely stays a few hours, just long enough to clean himself and get a decent meal. It makes him feel awful, he knows he’s being a horrible father right now, but he feels too frayed at the edges to be able to look Cole in the eyes and not break down crying.

The breaking point comes on what Hank guesses is the third night, time having lost most of its meaning for him now. It’s the middle of the night when he comes home, heavy clouds blocking the moonlight, and he’s exhausted. But, like all the other nights before, he expects he won’t be able to get any sleep.

What he doesn’t expect is for the kitchen light to be on, Cole sitting at the table, using one hand to hold Berry close to his chest and the other to drink a mug of what Hank assumes is hot chocolate. Julia is sitting across from him, her own steaming mug held tight in her hands.

Both their heads snap towards him as he steps inside the house, Cole looking like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing and Julia looking downright murderous. She pushes her chair away from the table and gets up, her face growing red with anger as she walks up to him.

She only stops when they’re almost standing chest to chest. She’s smaller than him, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders, but right now Hank feels like he’s the smallest of the two. There’s fury rolling off of her in waves as she just stands there and watches him shrink under her gaze. From this close, Hank can see the tears in the eyes and the way her hands shake as she shoves a finger in his chest.

“Go talk to your son.”

Hank blinks and suddenly she’s walking away from him, grabbing her jacket from the back of the couch. And then she’s slamming the door behind her, leaving without another word.

Cole hasn’t moved from his chair, he’s still looking at Hank with big, wet eyes, biting his lips to try and keep them from trembling.

Hank sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, realizing now just how badly he’d fucked up. He takes a second to try and compose himself before he makes his way to the kitchen, kneeling in front of Cole’s chair.

“Hey…”

Cole turns his face away from him, clutching Berry impossibly tighter against his chest.

Hank feels more lost than he’s ever been. His kids are quickly slipping through his fingers and he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to do to stop it. His eyes fill with tears as he tries to find the right words to apologize to Cole. None of them sound like they’re enough.

“Cole, I’m so-” Hank doesn’t get any further as he chokes on a sob, the sound involuntarily ripped from him.

If anything, it’s the surprise of seeing his dad crying so openly in front of him that makes Cole finally look at him.

“Why were you gone?” His little voice is so unsure, it brings a fresh wave of tears to Hank’s eyes. “I asked Julia, but she didn’t know. She just told me something was wrong with Gavy, but she wouldn’t tell me what.” Cole is crying too now. Big, fat tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. “I thought… I thought you did like mom.”

“No.” Hank denies immediately, shaking his head. “I love you so much. I would never, _ever_ , leave you like that Cole.”

Cole looks at him with all the unshakable trust only a child could ever have for their parent. “You promise?”

Hank makes a sound like a choked sob as he grabs Cole and holds him tight against him, with no intention to ever let go. “Yes. I promise.”

They stay like that for so long, hugging each other tight, that Hank is sure Cole must have fallen asleep. So he almost jumps out of his skin when his son says something muffled and completely inaudible against the fabric of his shirt.

He pulls himself away, just far enough that he can look Cole in the eyes. “What was that, kiddo?”

“Is something really wrong with Gavy?”

There’s so much fear in Cole’s eyes that Hank’s first instinct is to lie to him, to reassure him that everything is fine, but he pushes the thought down as soon as it comes.

“Yes.” He doesn’t think he can say more, words catching in his throat, but he forces himself to take deep breaths and push through his anxiousness. He owes Cole the truth, at the very least. “Gavin’s… Gavin got hurt pretty bad. He’s at the hospital, and I was staying with him.” He chokes up on the last few words, too many emotions making it hard for him to keep his voice steady.

Cole looks at the floor as he processes the words his dad told him, a frown settling on his face. “I wanna go see him.”

Hank sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. It’s not a good idea. It’s a terrible one, even. “We can talk about it tomorrow, okay? It’s late, we both need to get some sleep.”

Cole looks like he wants to argue, but he realizes quickly enough that his best chance to be allowed to visit Gavin is to behave. So he nods, letting his dad pick him up and tuck him in bed without complaints.

If Hank had hoped Cole would forget about the hospital visit the next morning, he was sorely mistaken. It’s the first thing Cole asks about when he wakes up, and he doesn’t let the subject drop, no matter how hard Hank tries to distract him from it.

The conversation from last night keeps playing in the back of Hank’s head, and he’s finding it harder and harder to refuse something his son so desperately wants.

Which is how Hank finds himself standing in front of Gavin’s room, a very excited Cole standing next to him, rocking back and forth on his heels and waving Berry around in one hand. He opens the door and takes a step inside the room, but Cole doesn’t follow him. He stays frozen at the edge of the door, his grip on Hank’s hand goes so tight it’s actually starting to hurt.

“Dad… Who’s that?” His voice is shaky, his skin turning pale as his eyes start to fill with tears.

Hank gets down on one knee so he can look his son in the eyes, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and trying his best to keep his own voice steady. “It’s Gavin. I told you he got hurt, remember? He’s gonna be alright now, but-”

“N-no!” Cole cuts him off, shaking his head violently and taking a step back. “That’s not Gavy in there!”

“Listen, Cole…” Hank doesn't have time to say anything else as Cole starts crying, huge sobs making his small body tremble.

Hank feels tears welling in his own eyes at the sight, and he holds his son against him, hugging him tightly. He whispers mindless soothing words as he rubs a hand up and down his son’s back, his own chest aching with the knowledge that there’s nothing he can possibly do to fix this.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually, Cole calms down, his sobs turning into weak sniffles.

“I wanna see Gavy.” His voice is still shaky, muffled by Hank’s shirt, but Cole straightens up and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

Hank takes a moment to look at him, debating his answer. He wants to say no, to spare Cole from the sight of Gavin, so pale and small in the hospital bed. If Cole reacted this badly from seeing him from afar, he doesn’t want to think about his reaction from seeing Gavin up close.

“It’s okay dad, I won’t be scared.” Cole says, as if sensing his exact thoughts. He wipes the remnants of his tears from his face and holds Berry close to his chest. “It’s what a good brother would do, right?”

Hank has to take a steadying breath as he looks at his son, still so small and yet having grown up much too fast. It seems like only yesterday, he was fitting in the crook of his arm, looking up at him with those wide green eyes, shining with curiosity at the world around him. “Yeah, Cole… That’s what a good brother would do.”

Cole takes a deep breath and nods, starting to walk towards Gavin’s bed before Hank can get back up on his feet. Cole stops at the edge of the bed, staying silent, but he doesn’t look like he’ll start crying again.

Hank sits on the small chair that’s become his second home during the last few days, and he lets his son take all the time he needs to talk to Gavin.

“Hi, Gavy.” Cole starts, unsure. “Dad told me you got hurt, so I wanted to come and see you. I’m sorry for crying, I didn’t mean to. T-this place is kinda scary.” Cole looks down at the floor as he nervously twists the paws of his plush. “That’s why I brought Berry. I-I want you to have him. He can help make this place less scary.”

“Are sure about this, Cole?” Hank asks gently. “You’re not gonna be able to sleep with Berry anymore if he stays here with Gavin.”

Cole doesn’t move for a moment and then, with one last intent look at his favorite toy, he places Berry on the small table that stands right next to Gavin’s bed.

“Dad, can I-'' Cole looks at him with worried eyes, like he’s not sure if what he wants to ask is allowed. “Can I hold Gavy’s hand?”

“Yes. Of course you can, kiddo. Come here.” Hank grabs his son by the waist and pulls him up so that he’s sitting in his lap, scooting the chair forward so that they’re sitting right next to Gavin’s bed.

Cole doesn’t move right away and, when he does, his movements are slow and careful, like Gavin is the most fragile thing he’s ever seen. Ever so gently, he twists Gavin’s hand, just far enough so that he can slide his small hand on his palm and intertwine their fingers.

And when he’s sure that Gavin isn’t about to break from the simple touch, Cole smiles, so warm and genuine that Hank can’t help but smile as well.

___

Gavin wakes up the next day.

Hank is sitting on the chair next to the bed, as usual, a tablet in his lap to try and help him keep up with work. He’s not getting much done, but it’s better than nothing. He realizes he’s been looking at it too long when the words start to blur, the dull beginning of a headache starting at the base of his skull.

He puts the tablet down and rubs at his tired eyes, thinking that maybe a quick nap wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He looks at Gavin one last time before he lets himself sleep, and almost has a heart attack when he realizes that pale grey eyes are staring back at him.

He swears as he jumps out of his chair, throwing open the door of the room and yelling out into the hallway that he needs a doctor, a nurse, anything.

Somebody comes soon enough and, before Hank knows it, the room is swarming with medical staff and he gets told none too gently that he needs to wait outside.

His first coherent thought is that he needs to call Julia, warn her that he won’t be home tonight. His words are jumbles and barely understandable through his panic, but Julia seems to be able to make sense of them. She assures him that she doesn’t mind watching Cole, but doesn’t let him hang up without promising that he’ll come home tomorrow if he stays at the hospital all night.

He paces around the waiting room for almost an entire hour before a nurse comes to get him.

“You are mister Anderson, correct?”

It’s one of those android nurses, and Hank doesn’t trust these things one bit, but he pushes his feelings aside and gives it a tight-lipped smile. “Yep, that’s me. Is Gavin alright?”

“Mister Reed is awake and in stable condition.” It tells him, face perfectly neutral. “You are allowed to see him, if you wish. Though I must emphasize that plenty of rest is recommended for a stable recovery.”

Hank waves it off as he quickly makes his way back to Gavin’s room, nervous apprehension making his heart beat faster.

Gavin is still awake by the time he makes it there. He walks in slowly, careful not to startle Gavin with any loud noise. The kid doesn’t acknowledge him until he’s standing right next to the bed.

“Hi.” Gavin rasps, his voice scratchy from misuse, and he gives Hank a lopsided grin, eyes opening and closing in very slow blinks. The doctors have him hooked on some pretty strong stuff, then.

“Hi.” He answers back, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Gavin hums, smile growing even bigger as his eyes close. “M’gonna go t’bed now, ‘kay?”

“Okay kid, goodnight.”

Gavin is asleep before Hank has finished his sentence.

___

“Gavin you fucking idiot!” Tina yells as she steps inside the room.

Gavin winces at the loud noise, but turns his head to give his friend a tired smile. He’s able to stay awake for much longer now, but the dark bags under his eyes and his ghostly pale skin betray just how exhausted he truly is.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Tina continues, just as angrily, though her voice is much lower now. “Don't you ever scare me like that again you little shit.”

Gavin looks sheepishly at his lap, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm on the bedsheets. “Sorry.” He mumbles, his voice rough and unsteady.

Tina walks up to the bed and gives Gavin a punch on the arm that's more like a gentle tap, and ruffles his already messed up hair. “It's okay. Just be fucking careful. I care about you, dumbass.”

Gavin snorts but his breath catches, making him wince in pain as he brings a hand to his stomach. “Ow. I love you too, asshole.”

Tina smiles, and neither Hank nor Gavin mention it when she wipes a few tears from her face. “Yeah well, you better come back to work soon. I never thought I’d say this but, I miss your bitchy attitude. Chris is just too nice, I can’t talk shit about anyone with him.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on sticking around here too long.” Gavin clicks his tongue and winks at her with both eyes. “I got a hot date with Chinese takeout and shitty daytime television as soon as I’m out. You’re cordially invited, of course.”

Tina rolls her eyes, but she can’t quite fight the smile on her face. “How could I ever refuse such a tempting offer?”

Tina is staying for the rest of the day, and Gavin had strictly refused that he spend any more nights sitting on the little chair by his bed, so Hank doesn’t have any good reason to stick around. He gets up with a grunt and pretends he doesn’t hear when Gavin whispers a joke about his age.

“Don’t put any more stress on the medical staff. Please.”

Tina laughs as she ushers him out of the door. “We won’t! Now go get some sleep, old man.”

As Hank walks through the hospital’s corridors, grumbling under his breath because he’s not that old for fuck sake, these kids are just too fucking young, there’s an uneasy feeling bothering him somewhere at the back of his mind. There’s something about what Gavin had said, right before Hank had left, that doesn’t sit well with him.

He walks out of the hospital and all the way back to his car before he makes sense of his feelings. He leans himself against the side of his car and pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing an all too familiar number.

“Yes.” Fowler’s voice is gruff, but not angry. He’s caught his friend at a good time, then.

“Hey, Jeff. I’m gonna need to cash in a favor.”

___

“Hank!”

Gavin is sitting on the edge of his bed, swinging his legs absentmindedly and smiling more brightly than he has since he’s woken up.

“I’m free!” He makes a move like he wants to throw his hands up, but the pain in his chest clearly makes him regret it, so he ends up awkwardly waving his arms at his side instead.

Hank laughs and drops the bag he’s holding on the bed. “I know.” He gestures unceremoniously to the old gym bag. “I brought you a present to celebrate.”

“Oh fuck yeah!” Gavin laughs as he opens the bag and pulls out a pair of jeans, holding them in front of him. “Pants! Oh, I’ve missed wearing pants so fucking much. Flaunting your ass all day isn’t as fun as it sounds like when the only people around you are old ladies and robots.”

Hank barks a laugh and has to resist the urge to shove Gavin off the bed. “Kid, shut the fuck up and go get changed.”

Gavin flips him off as he heads to the small bathroom that’s attached to his room, bag full of clothes in hand. There’s a little excited bound in his step despite the fact that he's almost limping, and Hank watches him go with a fond smile.

Gavin comes back out of the bathroom a few minutes later, still wearing his hospital gown, face pale and sweaty, and refusing to meet Hank’s eyes. “I can’t-” He stops to catch his breath, sounding completely exhausted. “I can’t do it.”

He crosses his arm in front of his chest and curls in on himself, eyes still stubbornly looking down at the floor in front of him. He won’t ask for help, not directly, but Hank easily understands the words Gavin won’t say.

“Okay. Yeah.” Hank softly guides Gavin back inside the bathroom, where the bag of clothes lays open, clothes strewn on the floor. He helps him get dressed up, supporting most of his weight and trying his best to ignore the bandage that covers the entire left side of Gavin’s torso.

Gavin is silent the entire time, head turned to the side and gaze fixed solely on the wall in front of him. He doesn’t even speak once they’re done and he wobbles his way out of the bathroom, sitting back on his bed.

Hank sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s alright, kiddo.”

“It’s fucking embarrassing is what it is.” Gavin crosses his arms over his chest, still refusing to meet Hank’s eyes. “Just take me home so I can sleep for three days straight.”

Hank doesn’t answer right away, instead, he takes a moment to properly look at Gavin. How he curls in on himself, making himself look smaller and more vulnerable than Hank has ever seen him. The bags under his eyes are dark and speak of many restless nights and his skin is still a few shades too pale. But Gavin doesn’t look like he’s fraying at the edges, like he’s going to break down the second Hank turns his back on him. No, his kid just looks _exhausted_.

Finally, Hank sighs, gently resting a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Gavin categorically refuses to take the wheelchair that a nurse android brings to his room. He stubbornly staggers his way out of the hospital, barely even letting Hank help him either, even though his breathing is ragged and he’s sweating buckets during the entire walk.

Once they reach the car, Gavin lets himself flop down on the passenger seat, sighing dramatically. “Finally! Remind me not to take a bullet for you again, that shit sucked.”

“Oh, trust me. I’ll remind you.” Hank says, much more serious than Gavin. “All the goddamned time.”

Gavin laughs, sticking his tongue out and flipping him off. He’s asleep barely a few minutes later, whole body folded awkwardly on his seat in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable considering his wound. But Gavin doesn’t so much as stir during the entire drive, head pressed against the window and snoring lightly.

Hank almost feels bad for waking him, with how deeply tired the kid looks, but he knows Gavin will be much more comfortable sleeping in an actual bed. He puts a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and shakes him gently, mindful not to justle him too much. “C’mon kiddo, wake up. We’re here.”

Gavin mumbles something intelligible and shakes his head a little, weakly swatting at Hank’s hand on his shoulder.

Hank rolls his eyes and shakes him harder. This time, Gavin’s head snaps up, a small confused sound coming out of him as he blinks himself awake. There’s a pause, as Hank stays quiet and waits for Gavin to realize where he is.

It takes Gavin a few seconds, but then he looks out the window and frowns, turning back to look at Hank with a confused tilt of his head. “That’s not my apartment.”

“Wow, real good detective work here, Reed. I’ll have to tell Fowler all about it.”

“Haha, real funny.” Gavin says, sounding far from amused. “Why are we at your house?”

Hank shrugs nonchalantly. “You asked me to take you home. So I did.”

Gavin looks at him with wide eyes, going completely still in his seat.

“Look, kid…” Hank sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to think about his words. “It doesn’t feel right to leave you by yourself when you can barely stand up for a few minutes. And I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself. I do. But just… just let me do this for you, alright?” And then, because he’s had more than enough emotionally charged conversations in the last few days, he adds: “Also I’m mostly just using you as a free babysitter. Julia’s been bleeding my bank account dry.”

Gavin shakes his head slowly, still looking dumbfounded. “But Fowler-”

“Has been my friend for longer than you’ve been alive. He’ll survive not seeing me for a couple of days. Now get out of the car or I’m locking you in for the night.”

Gavin pouts, crossing his arms like a petulant child, but he gets out of the car without complaint, letting Hank take most of his weight as they walk to the front door.

To say that Cole was excited to have Gavin stay at their house for an undefined period of time would be the understatement of the century.

Ever since Hank had broken the news to him, Cole had been absolutely restless. Hank had decided to lend his bedroom to Gavin, not minding having to sleep on the couch for a while, especially since he wouldn’t have to go to work in the morning.

Cole had insisted on helping Hank make the room as comfortable for Gavin as possible. Choosing which books to take from his apartment, which pieces of clothing to bring over, deciding what games would be appropriate to play with Gavin while he’s still pretty much bed-ridden.

He’d been buzzing with excitement all morning, helping Hank pick what outfit would be the best for Gavin for his return from the hospital. And he doesn't lose an ounce of his restless energy as the day goes on.

As soon as Hank opens the door of his house, holding up a half-asleep Gavin with one arm, the sound of tiny footsteps running like mad echo down the hall.

It's pure instinct that gives Hank enough time to grab his son by the waist and hoist him up, effectively stopping him from slamming the entire weight of his tiny body into Gavin’s wobbly legs.

“Whoa there, kiddo!” Hank says as he gently drops Cole back on the ground, keeping a firm hand on his chest. “I know you're excited to see Gavin, but he’s still hurt. You’ll have to be more careful around him.”

Cole looks at him with big eyes and nods, opting instead to grab Gavin's hand. “Hi Gavy! I'm glad you're home now. You missed soooo much stuff!”

Gavin looks down at him and smiles, ruffling his hair instead of answering, apparently having grown too tired for words.

Hank can't help the fond smile that spreads across his face as he watches his two boys interact for the first time in what feels like months. But, as much as he hates to interrupt, Gavin looks like he's about to fall asleep where he stands. “I think catching up is gonna have to wait for a bit, Cole. Gavin needs to get some sleep.”

“Oh, okay…” Cole sighs, a disappointed frown clear on his face. “Can I read him a story from my dinosaur book? Please, dad?”

Cole looks at him with a pout and big watery green eyes, and Hank is a weak, weak man.

___

They’ve barely started dinner when Hank’s phone rings. It’s a number he vaguely recognizes, some officer in another district who had information on one of his cases.

“Lieutenant Anderson speaking.” Hank grumbles into the phone in lieu of greetings. Thankfully, the officer is quick to the point and, in a few short minutes, they have a meeting planned and Hank can hang up and enjoy his food in peace.

Or so he thought, because as soon as the phone is back in his pocket, Gavin makes an indignant sound and slams his hand on the table. “Are you phucking kidding me!”

“Language.” Hank chides over Cole’s laughter.

Gavin ignores the remark and aggressively points his fork at him. “Seriously Hank, what the hell?”

Hank can only stare at him, because he has absolutely no fucking clue what the kid is going on about.

Gavin looks at him like he’s the one who’s gone completely crazy. “Excuse me, _Lieutenant_ Anderson? When were you going to tell me about that particular development?”

Oh. With everything that had happened, Hank had… completely forgotten to tell Gavin about that. “Well, uh…” Hank runs a hand through his hair, feeling sheepish. He truly hadn’t meant to keep Gavin in the dark about this. “I guess I just forgot about it kiddo, I’m sorry.”

“He just forgot about it…” Gavin repeats under his breath before he starts to laugh, one hand clutching at his left side. “You’re the fucking worst!”

To Hank’s surprise, Gavin seems to completely drop the topic after dinner that night. Over the next few days, Gavin doesn’t so much as mention his new rank, doesn’t even make a single joke about Hank forgetting about it.

And Hank finds it weird, because Gavin had always been more excited about this stuff than him, but he figures the kid is probably mad at him for not telling him such a crucial detail. So Hank doesn’t mention it either, Gavin will probably have forgotten about it in a week anyway.

He’s proven terribly wrong three days later when he comes home from work late in the evening. He opens the door to a chorus of voices yelling “Surprise!” and very nearly suffers from a heart attack.

Cole, Gavin and Julia are all standing in the kitchen, blowing party horns and throwing confetti everywhere.

And Hank has no clue what the hell is going on. He’s fairly confident his birthday isn’t until a good few months from now and, as far as he’s aware, there were no new holidays added to the calendar this year. So he’s pretty confused as to why there are three kids running around his kitchen, throwing handfuls of glittery paper at each other.

That is, until he sees the cake on the table. It’s dark blue and there’s some kind of crude drawing made with yellow frosting on top of it. If Hank tilts his head and uses a lot of imagination, it almost looks like a police badge.

Cole is the first one to run away from the confetti war, throwing himself at his father’s legs and blowing his party horn with every breath he takes. “Look dad, I decorated your cake! Do you like it?”

“It looks fantastic, Cole. I love it.”

Cole beams and gives him a tight hug before he’s running off again, threatening to put confetti all over Julia’s hair.

Gavin slides next to him, grinning up at him like an idiot. The sudden appearance of a glittery blue party hat that’s definitely too small for him and that sits awkwardly on top of his head definitely doesn’t help the look. “I hope you’re not mad at me for throwing such a wild party at your house? Though technically, Julia’s really to blame here.”

Hank raises a skeptical eyebrow because, seriously? Blaming Julia is a low blow, even for Gavin.

“No, really! Where do you think all this stuff came from? It can’t be me since I can’t leave for more than five minutes without, like, dying. And it’s certainly not Cole. Soooo…” He shrugs, giving Hank a smile that’s all teeth. “I’m really not at fault here.”

Hank grunts and shakes his head, barely stifling a laugh. “No, I won’t get mad. As long as you don’t get drunk and paint my dog pink again.”

“Oh come on!” Gavin whines, slumping his shoulders dramatically. “That was one time and I already apologized. When are you gonna let this go?”

Hank crosses his arms and gives Gavin a glare he only uses in the interrogation room. “As long as Chen has those pictures? Never.”

___

It’s on a particularly pleasant autumn evening that Hank gets a brilliant idea.

He’s sitting on the back porch, absentmindedly filling in a report for work as he watches his kids play soccer in the backyard. Or, at least, they’re trying to, because Sumo seems determined to try and rip the ball to pieces. It also doesn’t help that, whenever Cole manages to get the ball, Gavin unceremoniously throws him over his shoulder and kicks the ball as far as he can.

Gavin has been well enough to live on his own for a while now, and yet, he’s only ever gone back to his own apartment a handful of times. Actually, now that he thinks about it, Hank realizes that Gavin has been staying at their house more often than not for years now.

Hank almost laughs at how ridiculously late the realization is. But it had all happened so seamlessly that he never questioned when the extra blankets and pillow Gavin uses when he sleeps on the couch had become a permanent fixture in the living room.

So, giving Gavin his own bedroom just seems like the next logical step to take.

The only room still available in the house is the garage, and calling it a room feels very generous considering the state it’s in. Hank only ever uses it for storage and the half-finished walls and cold concrete floor are in a less than desirable state. There’s a lot of work to be done before if he wants to turn the place into a bedroom, and Gavin would still have to share the place with a few shelving units and some boxes, but he’s sure the kid won’t mind.

It’s not going to be an easy task, but Hank can be very determined when he wants to. And he’s going to need all the determination he can get, because he plans to have the room finished before Christmast.

A scream breaks him out of his musing, and Hank looks up just in time to see Sumo tackle Gavin so hard he sends him flying face first into the ground. Cole starts laughing so hard he falls to his knees and Sumo sees it as a golden opportunity to start licking him all the face.

“Gavy, help!” Cole yells between two bursts of laughter, trying in vain to push the big dog off of him.

Gavin turns himself so he’s lying on his back and spreads his arm, quietly complaining that this is the reason why cats are vastly superior to dogs, but he makes absolutely no move to go help Cole.

Despite the chaos in his backyard and the grass strain on Cole’s pants that he’s pretty sure he’ll never be able to clean, Hank smiles. After everything that happened with Emilie, Hank had been so certain that his chance at having the family he’d always dreamed of had left with her.

And yet, as he looks at his two boys making complete fools of themselves, he knows that their little makeshift family is more perfect than anything he could have ever wished for.

___

Gavin is practically bouncing up and down as they leave the hospital, hand clenched tightly around the doctor’s note that will allow him to gradually start working again. His good mood is so contagious that Hank doesn’t even mind that he spends the entire evening arguing over the phone with Fowler.

“You saw the doctor’s note, Jeff! She said he’s well enough to start working again.”

“He can stand on his own two feet without keeling over, that’s great.” Jeffrey grunts, sounding far from impressed. “But I still haven’t gotten the last evaluation from his shrink.”

“Oh come on!” Hank throws his arms in the air and resists the urge to slam his head against the wall in annoyance. “You’ve seen all the other ones, you know he’s doing fine.”

“I’ve seen them, yeah. But is that what you think?”

The question completely blindsides him, and Hank stays quiet as he takes the time to really think about his answer. It had been rough, at first, when Gavin had been too weak to stay awake for only a few hours at a time. It hadn’t helped that Cole had been constantly worried, and Hank’s own turmoil of feeling whenever he saw Gavin grow short of breath from walking the short distance between his bed and the couch had only added to the heavy atmosphere inside the house.

But Gavin had healed fast, just as stubborn as Hank has always been, if not more. Staying awake just a bit longer and walking just a bit farther every day. And now, with the exception of a small wince when he moves too sharply and too quick, Gavin is as good as new. He takes Sumo out on his run every morning, leaving the poor dog completely exhausted for the rest of the day, and he picks up Cole from school every evening, more than happy to let the kid talk his head off on the walk back.

“Yeah.” Hank shakes his head, a small smile on his lips, because he knows the answer with certainty. “The kid’s doing good.”

Jeffrey huffs, and there’s a distant sound of someone tapping away at a keyboard. “He can start Monday. Desk duty. Nothing else.”

Hank lets out a small, pleased laugh. “Thanks, Jeff. I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than one.” Jeffrey grumbles into the phone before clearing his throat. “Anyway, there’s something else I need to tell you. It’s about Gavin.”

___

On Monday morning, Hank feels like he has two toddlers running around the house instead of one. Well, he feels like that a lot, but this morning is particularly chaotic.

Gavin is practically vibrating with energy, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, cereal bowl in hand. He only has half of his uniform on because, on his first attempt at pouring himself a bowl, he’d somehow managed to spill half of the jug of milk on his shirt. So now he’s stuck frantically waiting for the washing machine to clean up his mess, because his only spare uniform shirt is somewhere at the back of his closet in his apartment.

And because his kids have some kind of magic psychic bond or something, Cole had woken up with more energy than ever, having decided that jumping is a more efficient mode of transportation than simply walking and that yelling instead of talking is an appropriate thing to do at six in the morning.

Hank can feel himself slowly losing his mind as he tries to keep some semblance of order in the kitchen. Time almost seems to slow when he sees Gavin heading for the coffee machine.

“No! Absolutely not!” Hank yells as he reaches for the coffee machine and unplugs it, keeping the cord in his hand just to be sure.

“Come on, Hank! Just one cup!” Gavin whines, pouting and giving Hank his best puppy-dog eyes. “Pretty please?”

“No.” Hank says, final. “You can get some at the station, where I won’t be the only person over the age of six who’s gonna have to tolerate you.”

Gavin pouts some more, but Hank remains unflappable.

“Fiiiiiiine!” Gavin sighs dramatically and throws himself on the nearest kitchen chair.

_Toddlers_. Hank is living with two toddlers.

“Cole.” Gavin says very seriously, draped over his chair like a dying Victorian maiden. “Your father is trying to kill me.”

Cole looks down at the table, frowning like he’s deep in thoughts while he sips his orange juice. After a few seconds, he looks back up, his expression a perfect copy of Gavin’s serious one. “Then we’ll have to sell him.”

There’s silence in the kitchen as Hank’s and Gavin’s minds try to catch up with what Cole just said.

And then Gavin starts laughing so hard he falls right off his chair, and Hank is worried the kid might die of an asthma attack on his kitchen floor.

It ends up taking the three of them a lot more time than usual to get ready, and Hank definitely doesn’t violate any traffic laws to get Cole to school on time. He feels like he’s run an entire marathon by the time he finally makes it to the station’s parking lot.

Gavin is out of the car before he’s even turned the engine off, bounding down the parking lot and greeting every officer he crosses path with. He stops once he reaches the front door, impatiently waiting for Hank to catch up. “Come on, old man! Don’t make me late on my first day!”

Hank laughs as he walks up to him, making sure his pace is as slow as it can be. To his surprise, Gavin actually waits for him, even though the kid looks like he’s about to vibrate through the door with excitement.

They’ve barely walked out of the security gate before Gavin is viciously attacked on both sides, finding himself trapped in the middle of an officer sandwich.

“Gavin!” Tina yells loud enough for the entire station to hear. “Thank fuck, you’re back.”

“We missed you, man!” Chris says, keeping his voice on a much more appropriate volume.

“Guys… Guys, you’re crushing me, I can’t breathe.”

Neither Tina nor Chris loosen their hold at Gavin’s muffled words.

Gavin laughs, having surrendered to his fate of being slowly crushed to death by his friends. “I missed you too, you fu-”

“Reed!”

Everything in the station seems to come to a halt at Fowler’s booming voice. The captain is standing in the doorway of his office, looking at their little group with all the wrath of a man who has seen too much bullshit in his lifetime. “My office. Now”

Tina, Chris and Gavin all share confused looks as Fowler walks into his office, fogging up the windows as he goes. When it becomes clear that none of them are about to move, Hank decides to take matters into his own hands,

“Alright kid, you heard the man.” He puts a hand on Gavin’s back and starts pushing him towards the office. “You don’t wanna piss him off before he’s finished his first cup of coffee. Trust me on that one.”

“W-what? But I didn’t…” Gavin stammers as he lets himself be led to the office, at a complete loss of what he could have done to upset the captain in the first minute of his first day back. He looks at Hank with wide, confused eyes before he squints, lips curled in an angry pout. “You know what this is about, don’t.”

“What? No, absolutely not.” Hank says with his voice pitched too high to be casual as he pushes Gavin in front of the steps to Fowler’s office. “Now go on, get in there.”

He makes shooing motions as he goes to sit at his desk. Gavin keeps his eyes on him as he slowly makes his way up the stairs and into the office, clearly suspicious of whatever is going on. Hank rolls his eyes and smiles when the kid finally disappears behind the door with one last frown directed his way.

It’s almost twenty minutes later when something gets slammed into his desk.

Hank looks up from his computer to see Gavin watching him, arms crossed and expression tight. He nods jerkily towards the desk, not saying a word as he waits for Hank to look at what he’s just put there with much more force than necessary.

Hank looks back down at what’s been put in front of him. It’s a badge, the polished metal shining like new under the neon lights of the station. It has Gavin’s name engraved on it and, right above that, in large and gleaming letters, the word ‘detective’.

“You knew about this, you fuck.” Gavin’s voice is shaky, and he’s definitely trying to fight back tears, but Hank can still hear the smile in it.

He looks up at the kid, smiling innocently, and shrugs. “Maybe.”

“You absolute bastard.” Gavin laughs wetly. He rubs his nose with the back of his hand and lifts his head towards the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

Hank hums in agreement, going back to his computer as if nothing’s happened. Gavin grabs his badge and walks over to his desk and he lets himself fall into his chair, still blinking a bit too fast.

Hank waits until Gavin’s started working as well, making sure he’s focused on what’s on his computer before he speaks again. “Y’know kid, if I were you I’d try not to get home too late tonight. I don’t know how long Cole can keep himself from eating the cake I have for you in the fridge.”

___

“Daaaaaaaaaaaad!”

Hank looks up from his tablet, rubbing a hand over his temple where he feels the beginning of a headache settle. “What is it, Cole?”

Cole is standing at the edge of the kitchen, holding a piece of paper tight against his chest, and giving Hank his very best impersonation of a sad puppy. “Can me and Gavy go to the mall?”

It’s not quite the question Hank was expecting, but he rolls with it seamlessly. It’s not the worst thing his son’s ever asked. “That depends. Does Gavin know that you’re going to the mall with him?”

“Uhu.” Cole shakes his head as he nervously wriggles the paper in his hands.

Hank raises an eyebrow, giving his son an unimpressed stare, before shifting his gaze farther down the house, towards the living room.

He can barely see Gavin’s feet peeking over the edge of the couch, where he’d unceremoniously thrown himself as soon as he’d stepped inside the house almost an hour ago. He hadn’t moved an inch since, not even when Sumo had plopped himself right on his chest and started snoring loudly.

“Hey, Gavin!” Hank yells none too gently and Gavin wakes up with a jolt, almost sending poor Sumo tumbling off the couch.

He takes a second to regain his bearings and tries to sit up, but the dog laying on his chest stubbornly refuses to move, especially after such a rude awakening. So Gavin settles for lifting his head as far as it can go, doing his best to glare at Hank over the dog. And Hank can only see the top half of Gavin’s face peering over the mountain of fur that is Sumo, his hair a complete mess, sticking up in every direction, and his eyes only half-open, still heavy with sleep.

Hank laughs and debates with himself whether or not he should take a picture because he’s sure Chen would get a kick out of this. “Are you still taking Cole to the mall today?”

Gavin looks at Hank and blinks slowly before his nose scrunches in confusion and he turns his head towards Cole. “Am I?”

“Yes!” Cole whisper-yells, looking at Gavin with big eyes like he’s the one not making sense. “It’s for our super secret spy mission!”

Gavin blinks slowly again, looking utterly lost. “Cole, what... Oh!” His eyes go wide and he gives Cole a mischievous smile. “Right, our super secret spy mission.” He says in the same whisper-yell way Cole had. “Give me five minutes to get ready.”

Most of that five minutes is spent trying to get Sumo off of him and then complaining about all the fur that’s gotten on his shirt because of said dog. And Hank is left watching, confused, as his boys are getting ready to leave for the mall, on a mission that he's apparently forbidden to know about.

“Be back before dinner!”

“Promise!” Gavin says as he opens the door, Cole practically pushing him outside.

“And don’t get into any trouble!”

“No promise!” Cole yells as he slams the door shut behind him.

Hank shakes his head and sighs, but there’s still a smile on his face long after he hears the car pull out of the driveway. He picks his tablet back up and tries to get back to work, but his already fraying focus is completely gone now. He puts it back down when he realizes he’s been reading the same three sentences for over five minutes.

And then almost immediately he wants to slap himself for being so stupid. This is a golden opportunity to spend some time working on Gavin’s room, and he’s going to need every minute he can get.

Christmas is coming fast and Hank is still far from done converting the garage into something that could vaguely be called cozy. At least Cole has already picked out all the furniture, with Hank’s approval of course, and now all that’s left is actually assembling them. He can already feel his back aching just by looking at the pile of large boxes stashed in the corner.

He’s in the middle of painting the back wall in a nice pale shade of blue, Cole’s pick obviously, when his phone rings. He fumbles with it for a few seconds, trying his best not to smear paint everywhere as he gets it out of his pocket, before finally answering.

“Hello?” He asks gruffly, already paying only half attention to the caller as he continues painting.

“Hello.” The voice that answers him is unfamiliar. It’s a woman, she sounds tired, weary in a way that he’s all too familiar with. “Is this Hank Anderson?”

“Yes...” His voice trails off and his answer ends up sounding more like a question. He doesn’t even notice he’s stopped painting mid-stroke. There’s a tight feeling growing in his chest and he doesn’t understand why it suddenly feels like there’s not enough air in the room.

“My name is Laura Grey, I’m a nurse at Detroit Receiving Hospital. I’m sorry mister Anderson but…” She takes a deep breath and Hank feels his heart stop beating. “... There’s been an accident. We need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh please don't hate me???


	4. Wreckage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the moment we’ve all been waiting for... *dramatic drumroll* It’s Gavin time babeyyyy!!! I keep accidentally making these chapters so gosh darn long and then I wonder why they take me so long to write… Also, I tried some things I've never done before in this chapter, so I apologize if it's kind of a mess!! As usual, this chapter is barely edited and not beta read, so forgive me for any mistake!! I hope you enjoy!! <3

The ceiling he wakes up to is cold and unfamiliar.

The fluorescent light is too bright and it makes his eyes burn. He closes them, scrunching his nose, and immediately regrets the action. Pain surges through his entire face, white-hot and electric.

And then he realizes that everything hurts and he can’t move.

He tries to move his arms, his legs, his head, anything, but he can’t. He can’t even bring himself to open his eyes again. He starts to panic, heartbeat loud and erratic in his ears, breathing coming in short spasms.

Except…

Except he can’t breathe either. There’s something in his mouth, going down his throat, that’s keeping him from taking in any air. He starts to choke around the thing in his throat, his body desperately trying to take a breath. Violent tremors are racking through him as he struggles, and the pain each convulsion brings is unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

There’s noise all around him. Voices he doesn’t know float high above him, but he’s too far gone in his own fogged up mind to pay them any attention.

All he knows is that he’s stuck in the dark, unable to breathe, his body in more pain than it’s ever been before in his life. And he’s _terrified_.

___

The second time he wakes up is much less violent.

His room is bathed in warm orange light from the setting sun. He’s still in pain, but it’s no longer this agonizing and burning hot feeling. It feels more like a dull ache now, like he could forget about if he was focused enough on something else.

And, most importantly, he can breathe. The thing in his throat is gone, and there’s nothing keeping him from taking a long, deep breath. So he does.

He regrets it almost immediately. As soon as his lungs expand, his whole chest explodes in pain, the same horrible, all-encompassing feeling he thought he was free of. His eyes fill with tears and panic slowly grips him, no matter how hard he tries to push it away.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, trying to blink the tears away from his eyes and struggling to get his breathing back under control. All he knows is that when he succeeds in calming down, he’s absolutely exhausted.

His eyes are starting to close on their own when he finally notices the other person in the room. They’re curled up on a chair, their back to the large windows of the room, clearly asleep.

His eyes are too blurry from tears and exhaustion to clearly make out who the person is, but he knows, deep down, that this figure is familiar to him. He fights off the lethargy that desperately clings to him, refusing to fall asleep until he knows who this person is. He’s rewarded for his effort, when, a few moments later, the person blinks awake. Their dark brown eyes meet his, and he finally recognizes them.

_Tina_.

Her eyes widen and a small gasp escapes her lips, clearly shocked at seeing him awake. She reaches a hand forward and moves as if she’s about to stand up, but then she stops, staying frozen in her chair. Suddenly, the silence in the room becomes unbearable, so heavy he feels like it’s crushing him.

“Gavin…” Her voice cracks on the word, a tear sliding down her cheek.

No. He hears himself let out a pathetic whimper, words unable to leave his mouth. So he shakes his head, even if each movement makes stars dance in his vision, because this can’t be happening. Tina can’t be saying… She can’t be right.

“Gavin I’m-” She lets out a sob and covers her mouth with her hand, tears falling freely from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…”

It can’t be true. He shakes his head more violently, feeling bile rise up his throat. But the pain in his body is nothing compared to the agony that’s filling his mind.

It should have been him.

He’s distantly aware of the frantic noise the machines around him are making. Somewhere far above him, he thinks Tina might be calling his name too. But the only clear thing anymore are the desperate words that run around in his head.

It should have been him.

It should have been-

___

Time blurs in the hospital. He spends most of his time sleeping and, when he’s awake, his only awareness of the passage of time comes from the sunlight that’s shining through his window or from the dim lighting of the moon.

Sometimes Tina is there when he wakes up, other times, she isn’t. She doesn’t talk much, but he doesn’t mind. The simple fact that she’s there at all is enough for him.

Chris also comes to visit on a few memorable occasions. Tina talks a lot more when he’s there, probably because he can offer more to the conversation than a few vague nods.

But the people he sees the most when he’s not sleeping are the doctors and nurses. They always seem to be around whenever he’s awake, poking and prodding at him until he falls back asleep. They think it’s a miracle he’s still alive. He wants to snap their necks with his bare hands when they say it to him.

But most of the time, they're silent as they move around him, and he's too tired to even notice them. He feels like he’s floating, like this is all happening to someone else and he's just watching it all unfold. Like he’s just a ghost in the corner of the room and the person in the bed is a stranger. A stranger whose life is getting shattered into a million pieces right before his eyes.

___

Reality comes crashing into Gavin when he’s released from the hospital.

Tina is there with him, the only familiar constant in whatever hell he’s been living. She takes the literal dozen of pill bottles a doctor gives them, listening intently to the warnings and recommendations on how and when to take them.

Gavin lets her gently guide him out of the hospital and into her car, silently listening to her nervous babbling about the newest gossip at the station. The ride back to his apartment is awkward, Tina’s attempts at starting a conversation are met with either silence or a disinterested hum.

Things don’t get much better when they reach the apartment either. He sits on the couch as Tina fusses all over the place, making sure that everything is in order and that he has enough food for a while.

And then Tina has to go, she has work early in the morning. Gavin understands that, he would never hold it against her. She hesitates for a little while, double-checking the state of the apartment. Eventually, she leaves with a quiet reassurance that she’ll be back tomorrow.

And as the door shuts behind her, Gavin is, for the first time in so long, completely alone.

It had been easy, at the hospital, to imagine he was there because of some reckless thing he’d done while at work. But here, in the eerie quiet of his apartment, it’s getting much harder to pretend.

And he just wants to go _home_.

The thought feels like a punch to the gut, so visceral it makes Gavin physically recoils. He has to hold onto the wall next to him to steady himself, trying to get his shallow breathing under control.

Tina had placed the pills on the coffee table in the living room before she’d left. Gavin makes a beeline for them, shaky legs feeling like they could crumble underneath him at any moment. He grabs the bottle of what he thinks are the strongest painkillers and dry-swallows a handful of pills, whole body swaying with the wave of nausea that hits him as he does.

He stands there, trying to assemble his thoughts into something half-coherent. He has to find something to do, something to keep his mind from spiraling down further.

His phone seems like a good place to start. He vaguely remembers Chris telling him that he’d left it in his bedroom after he’d picked it up from the evidence room. He’s been in the hospital for almost a month now, he must have a ton of missed calls and unanswered texts. Most of them will probably be from Hank.

Gavin pushes the thought away, shaking his head despite the fresh wave of nausea it brings him. It's selfish of him to think about Hank right now. To wish he was here to hold Gavin in his arms, to tell him that everything's alright when he's the reason why… When he's the one who screwed things up.

Gavin blinks quickly and rubs a hand over his eyes, mindful not to touch the trail of stitches that run across his face. He takes a deep breath as he tries to clear his mind, keeping his focus only on his small objective.

Bedroom. Phone. Simple enough.

The task quickly proves to be much more difficult than he'd taught. His bedroom is only a few dozen steps away, but it feels like an eternity before he finally reaches it. Despite the amount of drugs in his system, his left leg feels like it's on fire every time he moves it. Gavin knows he shouldn't be walking, shouldn't even be standing, the doctors have told him so multiple times. He doesn't care.

He reaches his bedroom shaking and panting, black dots clouding his vision. He takes a moment to lean against the door, trying to catch his breath. He's getting so, so tired of being weak.

Once Gavin feels like he's not about to pass out, he opens the door and flicks on the lights, looking around the room for his phone. It’s resting on the nightstand, the screen splintered by cracks that weren’t there before. And there, right behind it, is Berry.

Gavin slams the door closed, taking a few steps backward before his legs give out and he falls on his knees. A sob rips out of him, making his chest burst into pain.

He lets himself fall forward, forehead resting on the floor and one trembling arm trying to support his weight. His other arm curls itself around his chest, trying in vain to hold back the pain each choked whimper brings.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the edge of his vision starts to grow darker, his body’s exhaustion ultimately catching up to him, and he falls blissfully unconscious.

Tina finds him in the exact same spot the next morning. She shakes him awake, speaking in a worried voice that’s too fast for him to make sense of. Or maybe Gavin is the one whose brain is too slow to catch up with the words, he’s not really sure.

He finds himself sitting on his couch between one blink and the next. He doesn't remember having walked. Did Tina carry him?

He doesn't have time to dwell on the question as a warm bowl of soup is being pushed in front of his face. Tina is standing in front of him, holding out the bowl expectantly. Gavin takes it, a reflex more than a conscious decision.

“Are you hurt? Do we need to make an emergency trip back to the hospital?” Tina asks worriedly, and it’s the first words Gavin has been able to make out since she woke him up.

He shakes his head no, lowering his eyes to the steaming bowl in his hands.

“Alright. Okay, that’s good. I put Be-” Tina stops herself, biting her lips and quickly looking away from Gavin. “I’ve put all of the stuff I could find in a box. It’s in the bottom drawer of your nightstand. You won’t have to see it unless you want to.”

“Okay.” It’s all Gavin can think to answer, eyes fixed on the bowl of soup he’s slowly stirring.

“I have to go.” Tina looks physically pained by the words, regret and worry lacing her tone. “I’m actually supposed to be at work right now. But I’ll be back soon, okay? I’ll ask Fowler to finish up early, so you and I can order takeout for diner and watch a super shitty movie.”

Tina’s smile looks strained as she squeezes his arm in goodbye. She walks out of the apartment with slow steps, pausing as she opens the door. “Hey Gav, can you… promise me you’ll still be here when I come back?”

Gavin stays quiet. He’s never liked lying to Tina.

She sighs, shaking her head and, after some hesitation, finally closes the door behind her. Gavin stays on the couch, tightly clutching the rapidly cooling bowl of soup in his hands, and lets the day pass.

___

There’s a knock on his door at precisely eight in the morning, right on schedule. Gavin doesn’t bother getting up, he knows Tina will let herself in.

There’s the sound of a door opening and closing, and then Tina is standing in his bedroom, wearing her full police uniform.

“Mornin’ sunshine!” She greets him with her usual cheer, roughly pulling open the curtains and letting the bright morning sunlight into the room.

Gavin grunts as he turns away from the light, trying to shield himself with his pillow.

Tina wastes no time as she shoves the covers off of him, tugging twice at his good leg. “You better get your ass out of that bed right now or I'm dragging you out.”

“Okay, okay.” Gavin mumbles as he sluggishly sits up, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes. He knows Tina’s threat is not an empty one, she's already forcefully hauled him out of his bed more times than he'd like to admit. He gets up with a yawn, slowly stretching his arms and back as he walks to the bathroom.

Tina watches him like a hawk as he goes, like if she turned her eyes away for even a second, he'd make a mad dash for his bed. Gavin makes sure Tina sees him flipping her off as he closes the door to the bathroom.

He walks quickly past the mirror as he heads for the toilet, barely catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection.

He’s been avoiding looking at himself since he’s come back from the hospital. He always looks sickly pale and tired now.

Oh. And there's also the angry red stitches that start just under the tear ducts of his right eye and travel all the way across his face, over his nose, and end in the middle of his left cheek. It looks like whatever had cut him there had tried its damned best to cut his entire face in half.

Tina is waiting for him on the couch when he’s done, a small cardboard box resting on her lap and a plastic bag resting at her feet. He frowns in confusion as he goes to sit beside her, eyeing the box with suspicion.

“Your limp’s getting better. I can barely notice it.” Tina tells him as he sits next to her and there's a warm and genuine smile on her face. Gavin hums and looks away from her, fingers drumming against his thighs.

“Oh, I got you something!” Tina announces proudly, skillfully ignoring Gavin's complete lack of social skills. “And for the record, I still think dogs are better than cats.”

“What-” Gavin starts to ask, but stops short as Tina reaches inside the box and pulls out something that's tiny and _pink_. “Is that thing a rat?”

Tina throws her head back and laughs, slapping him on the arm. “No, you idiot! It’s a cat!” She raises it towards him and the little cat blinks at him with huge bright green eyes. “Y’know, a Sphinx? Because it has no hair so you can keep it in your apartment and not die.”

Gavin blinks, making no move to take the cat from Tina’s hand. “You… brought me a cat?”

“Yep!” She smiles brightly and points to the plastic bag on the floor next to her. “Everything you need to get started is in there and there’s cat food in your kitchen.”

Gavin shakes his head, trying to understand what the hell Tina was thinking. “Tina, I… I can’t-”

“Nope!” She interrupts him, shoving a finger in his face. “The only words I wanna hear coming out of your mouth are ‘thank you, Tina’.”

Gavin sighs, lightly running a hand down his face. “Tina, you know I can’t-”

“Thank you, Tina.”

“No, seriously-”

“Thank you, Tina!”

“Tina, stop-”

“Thaaaaaank you, Tina!”

Gavin sighs again, louder this time, and lets himself sink back into his couch, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Thank you, Tina.”

“Atta boy!” Tina pats his head, and then something very small and very alive gets dropped into his lap. “I gotta go, you two be nice to each other, alright? I’ll call you when my shift is over.”

He grunts in answer, and she gives him another punch in the arm as a goodbye. And then she’s gone, leaving Gavin alone with a kitten in his lap and no fucking clue what he’s supposed to do with it.

Gavin lowers his arm from his face and looks down at the kitten in his lap, the little pink thing sniffing curiously at a stain on his sweatpants.

“Why the fuck did she think this was a good idea?” Gavin whispers to himself.

The cat, predictably, doesn't answer him.

“Are you sure you’re not a rat?”

The kitten lets out a meow that’s incredibly too loud for its tiny size, and Gavin can’t help the surprised chuckle that escapes him.

“Rat, uh? I think that’s a pretty good name too.” He asks as he starts petting the kitten between its ears, the little thing purring like a truck engine. “C’mon then, let’s get you settled. I don’t want you peeing on my bed.”

His phone rings at precisely six in the evening, right on schedule. He picks up without looking, used to Tina’s routine checks by now. Besides, he’s too busy watching Rat tearing apart a small stringy toy to pay attention to his phone, so he doesn’t expect the voice on the other end of the line.

“Did you feed the cat?” Chris asks, tone slightly teasing.

Gavin tries to hide his pleased surprise with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “I’m working on it.” He lifts himself off the couch with a groan and slowly makes his way to the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you’re in on this cat thing too.”

“Maybe…” Chris hums, and Gavin can almost see his sly smile. “Did you give it a name yet?”

“Yeah, her name’s Rat.” There’s silence on the line as Gavin rummages through his cupboards, trying to find the one where Tina had put the cat food in.

“Are you kidding me?” Chris sounds like he’s torn between being exasperated or amused. “Tina’s going to kick your ass, you have to change it.”

“No way!” Gavin huffs indignantly, cracking open a can of cat food. Rat comes running at the sound, jumping on the counter and meowing loudly. “If Tina wanted Rat to have a different name, she should have chosen one herself.”

Chris laughs wholeheartedly, and it pulls a smile out of Gavin. “Well then, sounds like you got things under control over there.

“Yeah… I think I do.”

___

Slowly, Gavin starts to get better.

It’s a tedious process, but Tina and Chris are always there for him when some days are harder than others. Having Rat around is also a big help. Sometimes, knowing that her small existence depends solely on him is the only thing that gets him out of bed in the morning.

Along with Tina’s incessant nagging, of course.

Gavin has just woken up, sitting on his bed and stretching his back, when his phone rings. He frowns, confused. Tina has stoped her morning wake-up calls about a week ago and, though she still calls him every day, she never does so this early.

He takes his phone from the nightstand, and his eyebrows nearly reach his hairline when he sees who’s calling him. He accepts the call, and the perpetually tired voice of Jeffrey Fowler greets him.

“How you holding up, kid?”

“Don’t call me that.” Gavin snaps, and immediately regrets it. “But I’m not dead, if it’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not, but I’m glad to hear it.”

“So, uh…” Gavin feels like a kid suddenly, sitting on his couch and tapping his finger against the worn fabric of the armrest. Like Folwer is calling to tell him he wants to meet his parents and discuss his behavior, or something. “W-why _did_ you call?”

“Because you’ve been complaining to Chen about wanting to go back to work. Which means she’s been harassing me for days now, and she won’t stop until I let you come back.”

“Uhm, sorry?” Gavin hesitates, shrugging his shoulders. “I think?”

“Listen to me, Reed. You want to start working again, yes?” Fowler doesn’t give him time to answer. “So what you’re going to do, is you’re going to go see the shrink whose number I’ve just texted you, and I don’t want to hear any complaints. When that done, you’re gonna find a doctor and get a full physical evaluation from them and you’ll send the results back to me. When the shrink gives me the all-clear and the doctor tells me you’re healthy as a horse, then, and only then, I will consider letting you work on desk duty. Have I made myself clear?”

Gavin blinks, brain still reeling from Fowler’s words. “Y-yes, sir. I- thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Tell Chen to bring me back my pens or I’m signing her termination form in crayons.”

Fowler hangs up and Gavin is left staring at the dark screen of his phone.

He’s going to have to buy Tina so much chocolate. And a bunch of these fancy bath bombs she’s always talking about.

___

Gavin is both incredibly excited and absolutely terrified to go back to work.

It had taken him more time than he’d like to admit before being cleared by the shrink and finally receiving a doctor’s report that’s even vaguely positive. But, despite the fact that he’s still extremely far from being ‘healthy as a horse’, and probably won’t ever be again, Fowler had agreed to let him start working.

The captain may hide it well, but Gavin knows that, deep down, the man is a total sap. And he’s glad for it, especially when it works to his advantage.

Tina and Chris are both on patrol when he comes in, and he tries not to be disappointed that they can’t be there to greet him. The officers he walks by look at him with wide eyes and speak to each other in hushed tones.

He ignores them as he makes his way to his desk, sighing with relief once he finally sinks into his chair. He leans back and kicks his feet up on the desk, taking out his phone to look through the emails Fowler had sent him.

Tina walks into the station not five minutes later. She practically bounds up to him, shoving at his legs until there’s enough place for her to sit on the edge of the desk. He keeps looking at his phone as she chats him up eagerly, catching him up on gossip and praising the bath bombs he brought her.

Gavin looks up once he’s done reading, and his eyes catch on a pair of desks farther in front of him. His old desk had been emptied and cleaned out while he was gone, and what little he had in terms of office decoration had been moved to his new one.

But what makes him pause is the state of the desk in front of his old one. Hank’s workspace has been left completely untouched and, from what he can see, no one has been near it for a long time.

Tina notices where he’s looking, and her mood darkens considerably.

“He hasn’t been here since, uh, you know…” She tells him, stumbling over her words.

Gavin feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

He had been so caught up in his own little spiral of misery and self-loathing, that he’d convinced himself that Hank simply didn’t want to talk to him anymore. He hadn’t thought about Hank struggling as badly, if not worst, as him.

Gavin had been so incredibly selfish. Hank had lost his son because of _him_. And yet Gavin had expected him to… To what? Be there when he woke at the hospital? Show up at his doorstep with some junk food, a bottle of booze and a terrible joke? To call and ask him to come back home so they can start grieving together?

Gavin blinks stray tears from his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have better shit to do than bother me?”

Tina frowns, but the expression is quickly replaced by a smile. “Oh, definitely. I just came by to remind you that I expect my McNuggets and extra-large fries to be waiting for me at lunch.”

Gavin rolls his eyes, kicking at her with his foot. “Yeah, yeah. Now fuck off.”

She gets up from her perch on his desk and punches him in the arm as a goodbye. He watches her go until she out of the station, and then he lets his gaze falls back to Hank’s desk. A cold feeling settles into his gut, and he tries his best to ignore it.

Despite everything, his first day back at work goes fairly well.

Most people look at him as if a strong gust of wind could knock him over, and it makes him grind his teeth and dig his nail into his palms, but Gavin has gotten used to ignoring his more annoying coworkers. It also helps that Chris and Tina are there, acting mostly like usual.

Desk duty may not be the most exciting thing in the world, but it feels good to keep his mind busy. To feel like he’s actually doing something that matters.

The problem comes much later that night, as he lays in his bed, wide awake and staring at the ceiling, Hank’s empty desk is all he can think about.

Gavin throws the covers off of him and gets up, Rat loudly protesting as her peaceful sleep is disturbed. He apologizes to her as he quickly gets dressed, grabbing the nearest pair of jeans and hoodie he can find.

He’s out of the apartment and inside his car before he can let himself think about what he’s doing. He drives down the deserted Detroit streets, fingers drumming against the steering wheel and heart beating a mile a minute.

___

He shouldn’t be here.

There’s a reason Hank hasn’t come to see him, hasn’t texted or called. Why he doesn’t show up to work anymore. And Gavin is the cause of that reason.

He really shouldn’t be here.

He’s about to turn his car back on, but then he looks at the house and his breath catches in his throat.

Realistically, Gavin knows that the lights are out and that the curtains are drawn. But when he blinks, he can see inside the living room’s window, the lights in the kitchen are on and there’s a baseball match playing on tv. Cole is already throwing open the front door because he heard his car, and Sumo is right behind him, jumping from paw to paw and barking excitedly. When he opens his car door, he can hear Hank somewhere inside the house, yelling at them to stop making so much damn noise...

Gavin slams open the car door and leans himself sideways, just far enough that he’s able to throw up on the lawn.

He manages to awkwardly get out of his car, almost ripping up his seatbelt when he forgets he’s still wearing it. The cold night air helps to settle his nerves a little, at least.

He leans against his car and takes deep, steadying breaths, trying to clear his mind and stop his hands from shaking uncontrollably.

Once he starts feeling a bit more like himself, he drums his finger on the roof of his car, debating what he should do next. There's obviously a reason why Hank isn't going to work anymore. Why he hasn't talked to Gavin since-

Gavin shakes his head and resolves himself to walk up to the front door. He raises his fist to knock, but stops himself, hesitating. Not only does Hank not want to see him, it’s also the middle of the night.

But Gavin is here now, and he doesn’t have anything left to lose. Bitting hard at his bottom lip, he knocks at the door. Sumo immediately starts barking, the noises the dog makes as he runs through the house can clearly be heard, even from outside.

Gavin waits for Hank to open the door.

And waits…

He knocks a second time, harder and more urgently. It only serves to make Sumo bark harder, and the big dog starts to push at the door with his paws, making it shake on its hinges.

Without thinking, Gavin takes out his keys and unlocks the door.

The smell of alcohol and stale vomit is the first thing that hits him. He fights down the urge to gag, his already upset stomach churning unpleasantly. Sumo whines when he sees him, running circles around his legs before darting off towards the kitchen.

Gavin follows the dog finds Hank laying on his side on the kitchen floor, lying in a puddle of his own puke. He throws himself to his knees, bringing a finger to Hank’s neck. He finds a pulse, though it’s faint. But it’s there, and he can see the slow rise and fall of Hank’s chest.

Gavin sits back on his heels, breathing heavily. He’s a cop. A fucking detective, even. He’s been trained to handle situations like this. Yet all he can do is looking around the kitchen, feeling completely lost.

He sighs, closing his eyes to try and gather his thoughts. First, he should try and move Hank.

He rolls Hank on his back and snakes his arms under his armpits. Taking a deep breath, Gavin hauls the much larger man off the floor as far as he can. It makes the wound in his chest ache horribly, but he ignores it as he drags Hank out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.

He won’t be able to actually lift Hank into the bed, the short trip down the hall having already exhausted him. So he settles for turning Hank on his side and putting a pillow under his head.

Next, he cleans up the mess in the kitchen as best as he can. Then, he cleans the rest of the house as well, because it’s something to do.

It’s only when everything is done that Gavin realizes his hands are shaking and there’s a constant ringing in his ears. he has to stop himself from running as he gets out of the house and inside his car, Sumo barking after him. It feels terribly wrong to just leave, but he can’t stay here any longer.

Gavin sits in his car, shivering from the cold and the overwhelming emotions swirling inside of him, and he cries every tears he’s denied himself in the last months.

___

Gavin steps out of the police station with a sigh, feeling the cold night air chilling him to his bones. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks towards his car, the parking lot mostly deserted at this time of night.

He blasts the heat on as soon as he’s in his car, rubbing his hands together to try and warm them up. He lets his mind wander as he drives down the empty Detroit streets, thinking about case files and witness interviews and potential arrest procedures.

He makes a quick stop along the way, to a small grocery store that’s still open this late. He grabs everything he needs to make a quick dinner and pretends he doesn’t notice the way the cashier keeps staring at his scar.

It’s almost two in the morning by the time he reaches Hank’s house. Gavin lets himself in, kicking off the snow from his boots on the doorframe and turning on the lights in the living room. Sumo comes bounding up to him, tail wagging happily as he tries to shove his face into the grocery bag Gavin is holding.

“Hey, big guy.” Gavin crouches down to greet the dog properly, scratching him behind the ears. “I missed you too.”

He lets Sumo lick his face twice before he gets back up, wiping dog slobber off his cheeks. He walks to the kitchen, Sumo on his heels, and drops the grocery bag on the counter. He takes the food out of the bag and washes his hands, keeping an eye on Sumo in case the dog decides he wants to snack on raw chicken.

“I’m trying something new tonight.” Gavin tells the dog as he starts to gather everything he’ll need to cook. “How do you feel about chicken curry?”

Gavin cooks quietly, only occasionally breaking the silence to ask Sumo what he thinks of his ingredient choice. Slowly, the spicy smell of curry starts to replace the stale stench of alcohol in the air.

He grabs two plates from the cupboards and puts a hearty serving of chicken curry and rice in each. He takes one of the plates, leaving the other one on the counter, and goes to sit at the kitchen table. He eats his late night diner quietly, Sumo’s head resting on his thighs.

Once he’s done, he cleans up the kitchen, putting everything back in its place and making sure there’s nothing left on the counter that Sumo could eat. He cleans out the fridge after, throwing out expired food and half-drunk beer bottles. He takes out a plate of spaghetti wrapped in cling film and throws its content in the trash. He wraps the leftover plate of curry that’s still on the counter in cling film and puts it in the fridge, closing the door with a sigh.

Gavin moves to the bathroom next, emptying out the trash and picking up a few discarded beer bottles along the way. The laundry basket is overflowing with dirty clothes, so he throws them all in the washing machine.

The living room is still relatively clean, Gavin only having to throw out the two empty whiskey bottles on the coffee table. He takes the garbage bag outside and throws it in the bin in the backyard, pausing in his steps to take a few deep breaths of fresh air. Sumo is waiting for him once he comes back inside, the big dog jumping excitedly from paw to paw.

“Yeah buddy, we’re going.” Gavin assures the dog, patting him on the head. He puts his coat on and grabs the leash that’s hanging on the coat rack, Sumo running laps around him.

Snow crunches under his boots as Sumo drags him along the sidewalk, the big dog sniffing enthusiastically at the ground in front of him. Gavin wishes he could Sumo to the park, or at least walk him when there are other people around. The overgrown puppy had always liked being around people.

But now, a small lap around the neighboring streets will have to do. It’s the best Gavin can do, and he hopes that it’s enough.

They’re back home almost half an hour later, and Sumo makes a beeline for his bed in the corner of the living room, plopping himself down with a huff. Gavin smiles at the dog, rolling his eyes and calling him lazy under his breath.

He lingers in the living room for a few more seconds, fingers drumming against the edge of the couch. There’s only one thing left for him to do, and he’s saved the worst for last.

Gavin sighs, shakes his head, and goes to Hank’s bedroom. He cracks open the door and is pleasantly surprised when the smell of vomit doesn’t immediately reach his nose. Hank is asleep on his bed, fully clothed and laying on his back above the covers.

It’s one of the good nights, then.

Gavin steps into the room quietly and puts two fingers under Hank’s nose. The breaths he feels on his fingers are even and deep, despite the fact that they still stink of alcohol. Satisfied, Gavin takes hold of Hank’s shoulder and hip and, with one of his knees braced against the bed, he rolls him onto his side.

Now assured that Hank won’t choke himself on his own puke while he sleeps, Gavin makes a final check around the house to make sure everything is in order, petting Sumo one last time as he does.

It’s almost four in the morning by the time he reaches his apartment.

He heads straight for the kitchen, taking a can of cat food from the cupboard. Rat follows him as he walks to the balcony, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and lighter that rest on the bookshelf next to the door as he goes.

He cracks open the can and puts it on the small table in the corner of the balcony. Rat jumps on the table and starts to eat eagerly, her tail slowly swishing from side to side.

Gavin takes one of the cigarettes from the pack and lights it up, taking a deep drag that burns his lungs. He leans against the railing as he smokes, watching Detroit slowly start to wake up. Rat jumps up on his shoulder once her food is over, settling herself in the warmth between his neck and the hood of his coat. He lets his mind wander, the nicotine and lack of sleep making his head thrum pleasantly.

All too soon, his cigarette is gone and his hands are going numb from the cold. He heads back inside with a tired sigh, Rat jumping down from her perch and disappearing into the bedroom.

Gavin follows her soon after, changing out of his clothes and into an old pair of sweatpants. he climbs into bed and lays on his back, Rat immediately jumping onto his chest and curling up into a ball, staring deeply into his eyes. Gavin smiles and starts to gently stroke her back, the little pink cat purring happily.

Gavin stares at the ceiling as Rat finally settles down for the night, and he hopes he’ll be able to get some sleep before he has to go back to work in a few hours.

___

Gavin steps out of the police station and into the cold night air with a shiver, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. He walks through the deserted parking lot to reach his car, blasting the heat as soon as he’s inside.

He thinks about what he should make for diner as he drives down the empty streets, thoughtlessly humming along to the radio.

He makes a quick stop at the small grocery store that’s still open at this hour, picking things he hopes he’ll be able to make a decent meal out of. He likes this cashier a lot more, she never stares at his scar.

It’s almost two in the morning by the time he reaches Hank’s house. Gavin lets himself in, kicking off the snow from his boots on the doorframe and turning on the lights in the living room.

Hank is sitting at the kitchen table, his back towards him.

It’s so drastically different from every other time he’s walked inside the house that Gavin freezes in the doorway, not daring to step fully inside.

But Hank doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything to acknowledge that he’s aware that there’s someone else in the house now. So he’s blackout drunk, as usual, then. He’d just somehow managed to drag himself to the kitchen table.

Gavin sighs and closes the door behind him, tucking his keys into his coat pocket. Sumo isn't there to greet him either, the big dog is nowhere to be seen.

Gavin feels his skin crawl as he slowly walks towards the kitchen, careful to keep his steps light and silent. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like a kid again, like if he just breathes wrong his dad is going to shove him into the nearest wall.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

He’s so shocked to hear a coherent sentence from Hank that he doesn’t even think to respond, freezing at the edge of the kitchen like a deer caught in the headlights. Hank is looking directly at him, his eyes unusually clear considering the two empty bottles of whiskey on the table in front of him.

“I asked you a fucking question.”

Gavin is well aware of the fact, but it feels like his brain has completely stopped working. He can’t quite process that Hank is being coherent. That he’s talking to him for the first time in months.

“You think you can just come over whenever you want?” Hank slurs and pushes his chair backward, the wood screeching loudly against the ceramic tiles. He gets up from his chair, having to hold the table to keep himself steady. “Like you just fucking belong here?”

Gavin flinches and takes a step back out of instinct, feeling like all the air has been punched out of his lungs. “W-what?” He stammers weakly, voice cracking against the single word.

“Shut up!” Hank yells and leans slightly forward so he can grab one of the empty whiskey bottles and, more quickly than should be possible from his drunken state, he hurls it at Gavin.

He’s drunk enough that he misses by a few inches, the bottles exploding into pieces as it hits the kitchen wall. Gavin is vaguely aware of a sharp burning sensation somewhere on the right side of his face and of something warm dripping down his neck. But he doesn’t let himself shift his focus away from Hank, who already has the second bottle held tightly in his hand.

Hank is swaying on his feet and the finger he points at Gavin is shaking, but the cold rage in his eyes is clear as day. “Get away from me.”

It’s said so quietly that Gavin barely ears it over the frantic beating of his own heart.

He’s never been afraid of Hank. Not when they had argued over every little petty thing imaginable. Not even on those rare occasions when Hank had gotten truly angry and his voice had raised to something that reminded him so much of his father. He'd never been afraid because Hank had told him, so long ago now, that he’d never hurt him.

And now Gavin is _terrified_.

“Go the fuck away!” Hank slams the bottle down on the table. Not hard enough to break it, but the sound is enough to startle Gavin into moving, his back hitting the kitchen wall as he recoils away from Hank. He stumbles his way out of the house, never letting Hank out of his sight. Vaguely, he notices that he's leaving a small trail of blood on the floor.

Gavin slams the door shut and walks two steps away from the house before his legs give out on him. He falls to his knees on the front lawn, the sharp cold of the snow biting through his clothes and into his skin.

He tries to get his breathing under control. To slow down the erratic beating of his heart. He doesn’t notice he’s gotten down on all fours until he sees the pearly white snow beneath him slowly turning into a deep red.

His thoughts are scrambled, his brain feeling like it’s filled with static. There’s only one thing he knows for certainty, and it’s that he needs to leave. Now.

He struggles back up to his feet, stumbling on the snow a few times before finally reaching his car. He peels off the driveway as soon as the engine starts, tires screeching loudly against the icy asphalt. The sound is familiar in a sickening way, and a violent shiver runs down his spine. Gavin slams his foot on the accelerator, his car barreling down the street at a dangerously high speed.

He doesn’t know how he could have possibly made it back to his apartment building in one piece, but he doesn’t question it. He parks his car haphazardly and runs up the stairs to his floor, holding a hand against the cut on his face that’s still bleeding sluggishly.

He slams the door of his apartment, rushing to the bathroom and practically throwing himself on his knee in front of the toilet. He retches, bile burning his throat and tears burning his eyes. He’s shaking so bad he has trouble wiping his mouth once he’s done, deciding to stay on the floor because he’s certain he’ll only fall back down if he tries to get up.

So he stays on the bathroom floor, his entire body trembling, eyes open wide but completely unseeing. He doesn’t know if he’s crying, or if he’s even breathing anymore. Everything feels so far away, like he’s in some messed up dream he can’t seem to wake up from.

___

There’s something gently touching his thigh and Gavin blinks, snapping back to reality. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on the bathroom floor, it could have been minutes or hours, he has no idea.

He looks down and finds wide green eyes blinking at him. Rat’s front paws are pressed against Gavin’s thigh, helping to prop her up as she sniffs curiously at his face.

“Hey.” Gavin winces at the sound of his own voice, horribly rough and scratchy.

Rat leans her head away from him, startled by the sudden noise. There’s a weird spot of dark red on her nose and even on some of her whiskers, and it takes Gavin a few seconds to realize it’s blood.

His blood.

His heart skips a beat as he quickly grabs hold of Rat with one hand and blindly reaches for the closest towel with the other. He carefully wipes his blood off of Rat’s face, the cat loudly voicing her discontent the entire time. But, despite her protests, Gavin doesn’t let her out of his grip until he’s certain there isn’t a drop left on her. He lets her go once he’s satisfied, and she quickly jumps out of his lap, sprinting out of the room as fast as her little legs will carry her.

Gavin watches the spot where she disappeared for a few seconds, blinking, before he starts to get up. He moves slowly, because his legs are still unsteady beneath him and because he’s afraid to look at himself in the mirror.

He looks horrible.

His skin is a sickly shade of grey, and it makes the darkness of the bags under his eyes stand out even more. There’s half-dried blood all over the left side of his face and neck. The collar of his shirt is soaked through, so he takes it off and starts cleaning himself with it. It’s already ruined anyway.

Once the blood is gone, he can clearly see the cut that caused all the bleeding, and he almost throws up a second time.

It starts right at the edge of his ear and curves slightly downwards, stopping just before it reaches the middle of his cheek. He doesn’t think it’s deep enough that he’ll need stitches, but it makes him wince in pain when he tries to move his jaw.

He opens his medicine cabinet and rummages through it, trying to find something to cover the cut with. He miraculously finds a bandage that’s about the right size, forgotten in a corner.

He tears the package open and sticks the bandage to his face without much preamble or care. he grabs a bottle of painkillers, leftovers from the day he came home from the hospital, and gulps down two with a handful of water from the sink.

He closes the medicine cabinet with more force than necessary, and is left staring at himself in the mirror. He lets himself look at his reflection, truly look, for the first time since the accident.

The scar on his face isn’t so angry looking anymore, starting to blend a bit more with his skin tone. The edges of it have already started to fade, along with most of the other smaller cuts on his face.

There’s a large vertical line going down his stomach, just a bit to the left of his bellybutton. He knows he has another one that looks just like it on his back, near his spine. Those scars are pink and smooth, a remnant of the time he’d been shot and had almost bleed to death on some random warehouse’s floor.

The newer ones aren’t as clean looking, the skin still raised and bumpy. The first one is on his left hip, following the curve of the bone.

The second one is much larger. It starts somewhere on the right side of his back, arching downwards until it reaches the edge of his chest, where it abruptly swerves and trails down the side of his torso and stops just a bit below his ribs.

There’s a prickling sensation in his throat and, before he knows it, there are hot tears running down his cheeks. He wipes at his eyes angrily, but it does nothing to stop them. He walks out of the bathroom and makes a beeline for his bed, where Rat is already curled up on his pillow. He lays down in the middle of the bed and curls in on himself as tightly as he can.

Gavin wakes up tired and groggy, brain still foggy after the events from last night. He gets out of bed mechanically, making a cup of coffee for breakfast and quickly getting ready for work. He pauses when he reaches the mirror in the bathroom, staring at the way the stark white bandage stands out against his scruffy cheeks.

There’s no point in trying to hide it. It’s way too high to be covered by any piece of clothing and it’s not like he can wear his hood up all day. So Gavin grinds his teeth and decides to pretend like it’s not even there at all.

It’s a terrible plan, because as soon as he steps inside the station, Tina is on him, eyes wide with worry. “What the hell happened to you?”

She gently holds his face with one hand, turning his head slightly so she can get a better view of the bandage. Gavin slaps her hand away and takes a step back, crossing his arm over his chest and turning his face away from her.

“It’s nothing.” He snarls, and Tina’s worried expression turns to shock.

“Gav… what-” She starts to question but stops herself abruptly, as if she just realized something. When she speaks again, her voice is a mixture of horror and furry. “Gavin, _who_ did this to you?”

It feels like a punch in the guts, how easily Tina can read him, how much she knows him. Her question burns hot and heavy in his chest, and he knows he won’t be able to answer it.

He doesn’t like lying to Tina. But the thought of her knowing about what happened last night is even worst.

“I said it’s nothing.” He shoulders past Tina, shoving her much harder than he’s ever done before, and he doesn’t look back as he walks away from her.

She doesn’t ask him about the bandage again. In fact, she doesn’t speak to him all day, and he tries to convince himself that he’s glad she’s not bothering him anymore.

After work, he doesn’t go to Hank’s house.

Instead, he spends the night out on his balcony and smokes an entire pack of cigarettes, not noticing when he gets frostbites on the tip of his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like Rat, she came to me in a dream and I love her dearly... (Yes, Gavin is thinking about Rufus from Kim Possible when he sees her for the first time.) I actually did a lot of ‘medical’ research for this chapter, so all of Gavin’s scars are actual ones you would get from specific surgeries!! Did I need to do this?? No. I absolutely did not.


	5. Red Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, this chapter got wildly out of hand... I’m talking ‘more than double the length it is now’ out of hand. I definitely bit off more than I could chew. I’ve had to delete a bunch of stuff, shorten and mix stuff together. It was a whole mess and it still kinda is lmao!! This chapter also gets pretty dark so please mind the tags!!  
> !!!!Chapter warnings!!!!  
> -Graphic description of crime scenes and corpses, including a child and a pregnant woman  
> -The implied/referenced sex is NOT healthy and consent is given under ambiguous circumstances  
> ((That's all I can think of, but please tell me if you need any warning added to chapters!!))  
> As usual, this chapter is barely edited and not beta read, so forgive me for any mistake!! I hope you enjoy!! <3

The first time Hank stumbles into the station still half drunk in the middle of the day, Gavin walks right out of the building and doesn’t come back.

Tina tries to stop him on his way out, but he brushes her off without a word, pushing aggressively past other officers until he’s finally outside.

He sits in his car but doesn’t ignite the engine, letting his forehead rest against the steering wheel and hugging his arms around his chest. He stays there for a while, trying to get his breathing under control and desperately ignoring the sting coming from the scar on the side of his face.

Gavin leaves the parking lot once he doesn’t feel like he’s about to be sick, and he doesn’t look back.

The sun has gone down and Gavin has smoked three cigarettes when his hands finally stop shaking. He lights a fourth one and takes out his phone, wincing at all the notifications on the screen. He has three missed calls from Tina and one from Chris, along with a dozen or so text messages from both of them that he doesn’t have the heart to read.

He sends them both a quick text, assuring them that he’s alright and that they don’t need to worry about him. He puts his phone back in his pocket and finishes his cigarette in a few long drags, letting the buzzing noises of the city wash over him.

He shivers once he gets back inside, not having noticed how cold it had gotten outside when the sun had set. He puts his lighter and pack of cigarettes on the bookshelf next to the door and heads to the kitchen.

Rat is waiting for him there, sitting on the counter. She meows indignantly at him and Gavin rolls his eyes, smiling.

“Is it dinner time already?” He asks her as he pets her head, swiftly dodging Rat’s attempts at clawing at his hand. “Fine, fine! Gimme a second you fucking brat.”

Gavin opens the cupboard next to the sink and pulls out a can of cat food, cracking it open and placing it in front of Rat. She digs in immediately, making wet eating noises and purring loudly.

He watches her eat for a few more seconds before he heads to his bedroom. He takes off his clothes and throws them in a heap on the floor until he’s left standing in nothing but his underwear.

He lets himself fall forward on his bed, grabbing the first pillow he can reach and shoving it over his head. It’s still too early to sleep but he doesn’t care, he’s decided to let tomorrow Gavin deal with the mess of emotion that’s swirling inside his head.

He can’t fall asleep.

It’s well past midnight when he finally sits up with a sigh, running a hand down his face. Rat makes a low sound that’s not quite a hiss, clearly displeased at being woken up. Gavin apologizes to her as he gets up, riffling through his closet to find something to wear.

He settles for a dirty pair of jeans and an old hoodie that has holes in the cuffs where he can stick his thumbs though. He picks at a loose thread and smiles, remembering how he used to rip all of his hoodies like this as a kid.

His mom had found the habit pretty funny. His dad, not so much.

Gavin pulls the hood over his head and walks out of his bedroom and through the living room. He grabs the lighter and pack of cigarettes that sits on his bookshelf. He freezes before he can open the balcony door, a frown on his face. The packet feels unusually light.

“Phck…” Gavin swears to himself as he opens the pack of cigarettes and finds it empty. He crumples the small box in his fist with a defeated sigh, rubbing tiredly at his eyes with his other hand. He knows he’s not likely to get any sleep tonight, so he might as well go out to buy another pack.

He puts a pair of shoes on, grabs his wallet, phone and keys, and whispers a quick goodbye at Rat. He closes the door to his apartment quietly, mindful not to disturb his neighbors. He heads for his car but then stops halfway through the parking lot, deciding to walk instead. The fresh air would probably do him good.

It’s way too cold outside to only be wearing a hoodie, but Gavin ignores the chill and shoves his hands in his pockets. He slowly wanders down the street, letting his legs carry him while his mind wanders.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking when stops at an intersection and blinks a few times, slowly recognizing where he is.

The snow around him is cast in bright purple and yellow neon lights, coming from an obnoxiously large sign above a small building. He can hear the loud music coming from inside all the wary from the sidewalk, the loud bass reverberating in his chest. There are a few people standing by the door, smoking and laughing loudly.

Gavin realizes he’s walked all the way to The Electric Sheep, a shabby hole in the wall club he used to come to all the time with Tina and Chris back when they were only cadets. He lets out a small laugh, remembering all the times he and his friends had gotten completely plastered inside this very building.

Things seemed so much easier back then, when his only worry had been the threat of a pounding headache the next morning and the fear that Tina would puke on his shirt.

Gavin doesn’t notice he’s inside the club until the smell of alcohol hits his nose and makes him suppress a gag. The thread of nostalgic memories that had dragged him in is snapped in half, replaced by the thoughts that have been keeping him awake all night. He wants to turn around and leave, but his legs refuse to move, keeping him frozen on the spot.

He stays rooted there for a few seconds until someone bumps into him, making him stumble a few steps forward. Gavin turns around and finds himself face to face with a man that’s almost twice his size and clearly drunk.

“You’re blocking the door, asshole.” The man tells him with a snarl, swaying slightly where he stands.

“S-sorry.” Gavin apologizes faintly, feeling a shiver run down his spine and his legs turn to jelly. He tries not to think of his dad, of Hank, and fails miserably. The music is too loud for him to clear his mind and the lingering smell of alcohol keeps bringing back the memories he tries to push away.

The drunk man clearly doesn’t have the patience to let Gavin gather his thoughts. He takes an unsteady step forward, slowly raising his hands, and every instinct in Gavin’s body is telling him to _run_.

Gavin stumbles a few steps backward and quickly turns around, trying to put as much distance between himself and the man as he can, not caring that he has to walk further inside the club to do so.

The dance floor is crowded and he finds himself pulled into it without wanting to. He tries to move along with the push and pull of the people around him, but his body is too uncoordinated to keep up with the fast rhythm of the music. Everything is too much, too quick, and he just wants it all to stop.

After what feels like forever, he manages to pull himself out of the mess of bodies around him, finally reaching the other side of the dance floor. He still feels like he’s about to pass out any second now, but at least he can breathe a bit easier.

There’s a large that spans the lengths of the entire far wall, and Gavin lets himself collapse on one of the stools, gripping onto the counter for dear life. He forces himself to take deep breaths, trying to calm down and focus.

He’s mildly successful in his attempt, and he’s managed to stop hyperventilating by the time a bartender stops in front of him, asking for his order. Well, that’s what Gavin assumes they’ve said because, between the ringing in his ear and the blaring music, he hasn’t heard a single word.

“Give me the strongest thing you have.” Gavin says between two breaths, still holding the counter in a white-knuckled grip. The words are automatic, like a habit, and yet he’s never said them before in his life.

The bartender raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anything, turning around to grab a glass and reaching for one of the higher shelves. The drink they hand him is tinted green. It smells strong, sweet but with a hint of bitterness. Gavin downs it in two gulps without letting himself think about it.

The alcohol is strong and burns his throat all the way down to his chest, making him cough. He feels his eyes water and rubs at them roughly as he waits for the burning sensation to stop. The bartender is watching him with a mixture of worry and amusement, waiting until his coughing fit is over before they speak, louder this time. “Another?”

“Yes, please.” Gavin nods jerkily and pushes his glass towards them. “Make it a double.” He adds quickly when the bartender grabs his glass and starts filling it. They pause slightly, taking a second to look at him with placid curiosity, but comply with the request.

The bartender slides the drink towards him and walks away, taking the orders of the other people around the bar as they go. Gavin grabs the glass and can already feel the tips of his fingers growing numb.

___

Gavin is… _pleasantly buzzed_ when someone slides into the seat next to him, waving at the bartender to get their attention.

“I’ll have a gin tonic, and give my friend over here another of what he’s having.” The stranger says, voice deep and smooth as silk.

Gavin’s brain doesn’t catch up with the words until there’s a second glass being pushed in front of him. He turns towards the man, frowning.

“I ain’t your fucking friend.” Gavin snarls drunkenly, before downing the rest of his current drink, the alcohol warming his chest but no longer burning.

“Well, aren’t you pleasant.” The man says with a light chuckle. “Where I’m from people usually say thank you when someone buys them a drink.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ll have you know I’m a joy to be around.” Gavin says with a frown that looks more like a pout. The man smiles playfully and it makes the corner of his dark brown eyes crinkle. His short dirty blonde hair is curly and a few strands fall messily in front of his eyes. The vivid neon lights of the club highlight his strong jaw and cheeks, and yet his face is soft. His lips are pink and full, and perfectly heart-shaped.

Gavin realizes with a jolt that he’d been staring. He turns his head quickly and feels his face grow warm all the way to the tips of his ears. “Fuck you.” He mumbles around his glass before he takes a long sip.

“Buy me dinner, first.” The man gives him a smile that’s all teeth and Gavin chokes on his drink. The man laughs as Gavin slaps his chest, his face growing impossibly hotter.

“I’m Curtis, by the way.” The man, Curtis, extends a hand and Gavin shakes it out of habit more than anything.

“You’re an asshole, is what you are.” Gavin says between two coughs. “I’m Gavin.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Gavin. I’m sorry if I came on a bit too strong. It’s been a while since I’ve done, uh, this.” He gestures vaguely between the two of them.

“What, bothering strangers?”

“No.” Curtis says with a laugh and a roll of his eyes. “Flirting.”

_Oh._

“Oh… It’s fine.” Gavin assures him with a smile and a wave of his hand. The movement almost makes him fall off his stool. “I’m- it’s been a while for me too.”

“Really?” Curtis asks as he brings his own drink to his lips. “With a face like yours?”

Gavin physically recoils at the words and Curtis’ eyes go wide.

“Shit!” Curtis hisses, quickly putting his drink back down and holding his hands up in surrender. “Wait, no. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s alright.” Gavin laughs as he rubs a hand over his scar, but it sounds strained even to his own ears. He’s used to the curious whispers and the way people stare by now. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror much, but he knows what he looks like. Sure, his scar isn’t a raised angry red gash anymore, but his face is still far from a pretty sight.

“Oh, god fucking damnit.” Curtis sighs and hides his face in his hands, letting his elbows rest on the bar. “I’m sorry for being such a fucking idiot.”

Gavin can only stare, feeling like the ground has been pulled from underneath him. Curtis is being nice to him. He sounds genuinely distraught at having hurt his feelings.

_Why?_

People aren’t just nice to him for no reason. Especially not nowadays. And yet, this stupidly pretty stranger had taken one look at his messed up face and shitty attitude, and he’d decided he was good enough to flirt with.

It doesn’t make any goddamn sense, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

“I should probably leave now.” Curtis’ words are muffled behind his hands, but Gavin hears them clear as day, piercing through the loud music around them. Something squeezes painfully in his chest and he quickly shoots out a hand to grab at Curtis’ arm.

“Let me buy you a drink first! I-it’s only fair, right?” Gavin stumbles over his words, talking too fast for his sluggish body to keep up. “If you’re, uh, if that’s alright with you…”

Slowly, Curtis lowers his hands from his face, looking sheepish. But then he sees Gavin’s worried expression and his face twist into a pleased smile. “It’s more than alright.”

Gavin nods, dumbstruck, feeling like he's in way over his head with this whole conversation. “So, uh, you come here often?”

Curtis laughs so hard that tears gather in the corner of his eyes. Gavin feels his entire face heat up in embarrassment and he slams back the rest of his drink, hoping the alcohol will drown his awkwardness.

Despite his stupid words and his sour attitude, Curtis stays, and makes good on Gavin’s offer for a second drink. And then they have another. And another one after that.

They talk for what feels like both forever and just a few minutes. Curtis seems to always be so cool and collected, but he’s also just enough of an asshole that Gavin likes him.

It's infuriating. And exciting. And a lot of other words ending in ing that Gavin can't really remember right now.

Somewhere along that time, the music has changed from annoyingly loud to something less aggressive with a lower baseline. They're the only people left at the bar, and the only bartender left is the one that had served Gavin when he'd first come in.

Gavin is in the middle of slurring his way through an anecdote about the time Sumo had almost ripped his arm off to go chase after a goose, when the bartender interrupts him. “Sorry guys, but I'm gonna have to kick you out. It's the last call before closing.”

“What?” Gavin asks as he turns around, finally realizing that the club is almost empty and that the strobe lights have been replaced by dull blue neons. “Holy shit…”

Curtis makes a disappointed noise, but gets up without complaint. He stretches his arms and shoulders as he does, and Gavin pretends not to stare when his shirt riles up.

“I didn't notice it got this late.” Curtis says before he lets out a yawn, as if proving his point. “I guess time flies when you're in good company.” He winks at Gavin and smiles warmly.

Gavin can't look away.

It's like watching a car wreck. Except a lot prettier. And with a lot less blood. And also a lot less screaming. Though in this particular wreck he wouldn't mind screaming a little.

Curtis snorts and Gavin has a sinking feeling that he’s just said all that out loud.

“Hey, Gavin?” Curtis asks in a tone that's a bit too sultry to be casual. “What d’you say we get out of here?”

Gavin nods eagerly, pushing himself off of his stool. His legs don't seem to agree with the idea though, and give out on him as soon as he's up.

He's barely started to fall when strong arms catch him by the waist, stopping him from landing face first on the floor.

“Whoa there!” Curtis says from somewhere way too close to his ears. “I think you've had a bit much to drink. Is it alright if I give you a ride home?”

“Oh, definitely.” Gavin agrees earnestly. Then he looks up at Curtis and winks with both eyes. “It's more than alright.”

They both laugh and Curtis has to practically drag him out of the club and to his car. Gavin is giggling and tripping over his own feet the whole way.

He's an absolute mess but, for the first time in a very long time, he couldn't care less.

Curtis leans him against the side of his car while he tries to fish his keys out of his pockets, and Gavin isn’t happy with the loss of contact between them.

He should fix that, then.

Using what little strength and balance he has left, Gavin lurches himself forward, grabs Curtis by the lapel of his coat, and kisses him for all he's worth. Which is probably not a lot right now, but it's the thought that counts.

Curtis is frozen in surprise for a few seconds, but he gathers himself quickly and kisses back. He grabs Gavin by the waist and pushes him back against the car with enough force to make him lose his breath.

Gavin gasps as Curtis moves down his body to start kissing and biting at his neck, one hand moving from his hips to snake up under his shirt.

Suddenly, Curtis is off of him and before Gavin can even whine in protest, he’s being pushed back and into the backseat of a car. He falls in an awkward heap, legs still halfway out of the car.

Before he can try to reposition himself, Curtis is back, sliding his hands under his knees and bending them all the way to his chest. Curtis kneels between his folded legs and slams the door closed behind him. He folds himself over Gavin, taking his time as he looks him up and down, licking his lips.

“Holy shit, you’re flexible.” Curtis mumbles in quiet awe and Gavin beams at the praise. Being able to catch criminals isn’t the only reason why he works out almost every day.

“Wanna show me just how flexible you are, babe?”

Gavin shivers and has to bite back a moan at the nicknames. He nods eagerly, and that’s all the warning he gets before Curtis is on him again, kissing him hungrily.

___

Gavin wakes up to a pounding headache, the alarm on his phone blaring uncomfortably loud next to his ear.

He opens his eyes and immediately regrets it. His curtains are open, and the sunshine pouring through the window feels like it's making his brain melt in his skull. He groans and throws an arm over his eyes, sitting up painfully slowly on his mattress.

He reaches blindly for his phone with his free hand, and he has to resist the urge to throw it against the wall when he finally finds it. He turns the alarm off and his apartment is once again coated in blissful silence.

He hasn't been this hangover in… _ever._

He feels awful, his whole body covered in sweat and his stomach churning. His memories of last night are foggy at best, and he can only grasp bits and pieces of what happened. He lays back down on his bed with a bone-weary sigh and tries to muster some energy to go through his day.

He ends up throwing up in the shower and having only half a cup of black coffee for breakfast, but he miraculously manages to make it to work. He makes a beeline for the break room as soon as he walks in. He’s going to need a lot more caffeine if he wants to stay upright all day.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Someone asks behind him, a hint of worry in their voice.

Gavin turns around from where he’d been glaring at the coffee machine to see Tina leaning against one of the standing tables. She’s looking at him with comically wide eyes, her eyebrows raised to her hairline.

“Nothin’.” Gavin mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter.

“Okayyyy…” Tina drags the word for too long, disbelief clear on her face, but Gavin is too tired to be annoyed. She takes a slow sip of her own coffee, her eyes never leaving him. Suddenly, she stops and almost chokes as she slams her cup on the table, eyes growing wide.

“Oh my god! Did you have sex last night!?” She hisses, way too loud to be subtle.

“Tina, shut the fuck up!” Gavin hisses back, though it sounds more like a squeak. “How the hell do you even know that?”

“It’s your hair.” Tina says simply, like it perfectly answers his question.

Gavin blinks, feeling like he’s missed out on half of this conversation. “...What?”

“Mhm.” Tina nods and takes a sip of her coffee, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been paranoid about having sex hair for, like, ever. So you always put extra gel in your hair the next morning.” She shrugs. “It’s pretty easy to tell if you know what to look for.”

“That’s…” Sweet. And also something he would never notice if Tina was the one doing it. More proof that she’s way too good of a person to be friends with him. “... creepy. I’m gonna have to file a restraining order against you for stalking me.”

“Oh, please.” Tina rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is sincere. “You wouldn't survive a week without me.”

No. He probably wouldn’t.

“Whatever you say, Chen.” Gavin grabs his own coffee and heads for his desk, not willing to lose any more time this morning. He already came in late, he can’t afford to waste time talking to Tina about his sex life, of all things.

He sits on his chair with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. The headache isn’t as painful as it was earlier, but he still feels like the lights of the station are trying to burn his eyes off. He risks a glance at Hank’s desk and finds it empty, as usual. There’s no sign of the man anywhere else at the station either.

Small mercies.

Filing paperwork with his skull feeling like it’s about to crack in two is a harrowing experience, to say the least. But Gavin grinds his teeth and forces himself to focus on his computer. His work is too important, it means too much to too many people, for him to get set back because of his own stupidity.

Tina harasses him to come get some food with her somewhere around lunch time. He agrees, if only to get her to stop annoying him. He barely touches his food, but Tina doesn’t mention it. She keeps the conversation going for the both of them, keeping her voice carefully low to not worsen his headache.

It’s nice, and Gavin feels much better once he sits back down at his desk. He’s only just turned on his computer when his phone dings in his pocket. He frowns as he takes it, confused as to who could possibly be texting him.

Tina has just told him goodbye, leaving the station for patrol duty. Chris is sitting at his own desk, barely a few feet away from him. If he’d wanted to talk, he would have simply said something.

Gavin’s confusion grows even more when he sees that the text is from an unknown number. Taking one last look around the office, as if to make sure this isn’t some kind of prank, he opens the message.

_Hey Gavin, it’s Curtis. I hope I’m not interrupting anything? I just can’t stop thinking about last night. About you. And I was wondering if you’d like us to go out sometimes. Somewhere a bit less intense than a club, preferably._

Another text pops in just as he finishes reading the first one.

_Sorry if I’m coming on too strong… I just really enjoyed spending time with you._

Gavin feels his cheeks heat up as he reads, memories of last night swimming in his vision. He doesn’t remember giving Curtis his number, but he’s glad that he did.

_No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it! I had a nice time too. I’m free on Sunday, if you want?_

_Perfect! I’ll come pick you up at 10 am?_

_That’s fine with me._

_Good. I can’t wait :)_

Gavin closes his phone and can’t seem to shake off the small smile on his face. He’s just agreed to go on a date with Curtis.

Holy shit…

He just agreed to go on a _date._

What does he think he’s doing? He’s an absolute mess who can barely take care of himself and his cat. He can’t allow himself to throw a relationship into the mix. He’s already enough of a burden to his friends, adding that kind of strain on Curtis would be incredibly selfish of him.

Gavin shakes his head, the smile gone from his face and anxiety making his heart beat too fast in his chest. He should have never agreed in the first place, but it’s like talking with Curtis makes him forget all of his uncertainties.

And now he’s going to have to let him down, while trying not to seem like an absolute asshole...

___

Sunday morning comes too soon and Gavin feels like a caged animal, pacing in his apartment.

He’s spent all day yesterday writing apologies and excuses to Curtis, only to delete the message and start all over again. In the end, he didn’t send anything, and he’d had to smoke three cigarettes to be able to sleep that night.

Rat had looked at him like he was going inside. She was probably right.

Curtis is going to be here in a few seconds, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s wearing his nicest pair of jeans and an old black sweater, but he keeps second-guessing his outfit. They’re more than likely only going to stay in his apartment and watch tv until one of them can’t keep their hands to themselves. It’s fine then, that he’s dressed more casually. But what if Curtis’ made an effort and he’s dressed nicely? Gavin’s going to look like an ass looking like a slob next to him.

His rambling thoughts get cut short by a knock on the door, and Gavin feels his heart trying to beat out of his chest. He takes a steadying breath, runs a hand in his hair one last time, and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans.

Gavin opens the door, and it’s like all of his worries evaporate into thin air.

Curtis is standing there, a warm smile on his face and a few snowflakes clinging to his curly hair. He looks happy, if a bit apprehensive, but the hint of sadness and worry that always seems to surround the people around Gavin is nowhere to be seen. It’s weirdly liberating, and it makes him feel _normal._

“Hello.” Curtis greets him, smile never faltering.

“Hi.” Gavin answers back, feeling completely out of his depth.

“Put your coat on, I’m taking you out.”

“Oh, okay?” Gavin blinks. “Where are we going?”

Curtis smiles cryptically as he watches Gavin put on his winter jacket. “You’ll see.”

Gavin rolls his eyes at the enigmatic answer, but doesn’t push to get an answer. He locks the door to his apartment and follows Curtis back down to his car, smiling the whole way. He had expected some quick sex on his couch, not an _actual_ date.

“Hey, Gavin?” Curtis asks once they’re in the car, a small frown on his face.

“Yeah?” Gavin answers, turning his body in the passenger seat so that he can get a better look at Curtis.

“I know it kinda sounds silly, but…” Curtis hesitates, keeping his eyes on the road and nervously gripping the steering wheel. “...I really did miss you.”

Gavin feels his smile turn into a lopsided grin as his cheeks heat up. He finds it surprisingly easy to answer back. “I missed you too.”

Curtis turns his head to look at him and smiles so warmly and genuinely that Gavin feels like melting in his seat.

They end up somewhere Downtown, walking down a narrow street that’s been converted into an outdoor holiday market. There are small wooden shops on both sides, each one lovingly decorated by the vendor inside. There are small Christmas trees everywhere, and people huddled close together next to the many bonfires crackling along the way. Colorful string lights are hanging above the whole length of the street, and Gavin feels like he’s in a dream.

Curtis buys them hot chocolate at some point, and they find themselves sitting on a bench, watching people skate on a nearby ice rink. They stay there long after their drinks are empty, and long after Gavin stops feeling his face because of the cold.

But, eventually, they have to leave. Curtis drives Gavin back home, and they end up making out against his front door for an obscenely long time.

It’s the first time since the accident that Gavin has been happy for more than a few minutes, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. Lucky for him, he doesn’t have to think much about anything when Curtis slides a thigh between his legs and sucks a bruise into his neck.

___

Gavin answers the phone without looking, busy finishing up the report on his latest arrest. “Detective Reed speaking.”

“Wow, harsh.” Curtis answers with a chuckle. “Sorry to bother you, detective. I was hoping to talk to my boyfriend.”

“Shit…” Gavin leans away from his computer with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Did I miss dinner again?”

“Yep!” Curtis pops his p, his playfulness sounding slightly forced. “Let me guess, you got busy and didn’t notice the time?”

“I’m so sorry Curtis. I’m leaving right now, I’ll be there soon.” Gavin gets up from his chair as he apologizes and hastily puts on his sweater.

“I don’t know Gavin…” Curtis sighs, hesitating over his next words. “Maybe you should spend the weekend at your own place. There’s no point in you staying over if you’re just going to work the whole time.”

“No, wait! Curtis, I-” Gavin stammers, his heart in his throat.

He only ever gets time to see Curtis on the weekends. They usually try to go on a few dates throughout the week, but Gavin had been so busy lately, they hadn’t found time to see each other.

The steady rise in unemployment due to androids has been happening for years now, and signs of it are starting to become apparent in the streets of Detroit. Crimes are becoming more recurrent as time goes on. More robberies, assaults, drug deals. More murders.

And Gavin is neck-deep in all of it, trying his best to do his job while ignoring the androids that are slowly starting to show up at the station.

He was fine with the secretary androids. They’d been implemented at the station a while ago now, a few years before the… when he was still Hank’s partner. The maintenance androids, he can ignore too. They’re mostly around at night, and they’re good at making themselves unnoticed.

No, what’s upsetting him are the police androids that have started popping up a few months ago. They barely do anything more than guard duty and assisting patrol officers, but the thought of them still makes Gavin skin’s crawl.

They may only be considered auxiliaries now, but how long until the next model comes out, more advanced and capable? How long until they start replacing Tina and Chris and every other officer at the station? How long until they replace _him?_

He’s worked so hard for such a long time to get where he is now, the thought of a plastic faced tin-can ripping it all away from him is enough to make his blood boil in anger.

It doesn’t help that, when he sees the androids dressed like dolls in their uniforms, smiling pleasantly at the world around them, all he can think about is one of those things with its hands buried deep in Cole’s broken body.

“Let me spend the weekend over, please.” Gavin ignores the hint of desperation in his own voice. “I won’t do anything work related, I promise.”

Curtis hums, thinking over the offer, and Gavin waits for his answer with bated breaths.

“All right, fine.” Curtis finally concedes, voice finally starting to sound more light. “But you better make it up to me.”

Gavin feels himself starting to blush like a teenager at the implication, quickly looking around the station to make sure no one is there to see him embarrass himself. “You know I will.”

___

Gavin wakes up with the annoying chime of his phone next to his ear and a foot gently kicking his shin.

“Make it stop…” Curtis mumbles from somewhere under the covers, drowsily trying to escape the noise.

Gavin reaches for his phone on the nightstand and almost blinds himself when tries to look at it. He squints, and the glaring screen tells him that the call is coming from someone inside the police station. He swears under his breath and gets out of the bed as gracefully as he can while still half-asleep.

Gavin waits until he’s made it all the way to the kitchen before picking up. Curtis is going to be pissed, but Gavin can’t ignore his phone. If someone is calling in the middle of the night during his day off, then it’s because they need him, specifically.

“Hello, Detective Gavin Reed?” A perfectly measured female voice asks him, and Gavin recognizes it as the android operator who works at the station. Well, an android with the same model, at least.

“Yeah, it’s me. What is it?”

“Your presence has been requested at a crime scene. I am sending you the coordinates right now.”

Gavin sighs and rubs a hand down his face, leaning himself against the kitchen counter. It’s way too early for this shit, and he definitely doesn’t want to go. But there’s no point in trying to argue with the android on this. It’s only going to talk him in circles with its fakely sweet voice until he ends up agreeing anyway.

“Can I at least know who asked for me?” If it’s some rookie who got in over their head and blindly asked for him, Gavin is going to kick their ass into the ground and then he’ll come back here to cuddle with his boyfriend.

“Officer Benjamin Collins.”

Gavin lets himself slump on the kitchen counter, his head resting against the cabinets. It’s really serious, then. “Alright, tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Detective Reed.” The android tells him pleasantly and hangs up.

Like it gave him any choice in the matter.

It’s raining, because of course it is, by the time he makes it to the address the android operator had given him. It’s a run-down little house, with most of the paint peeled off and a backyard that’s more dirt than grass. It’s not a good neighborhood, but it’s certainly not the worst.

Despite the pouring rain, a few people are gathered by the holographic police tape. Most of them are crying and holding each other tight. Whoever lived here used to be well liked.

Gavin squeezes through them and crosses the tape, flashing his badge to the police android that’s guarding the perimeter.

Ben is standing on the front porch, eyes glued to the tablet he’s trying to shield from the rain. Behind him, members of the forensic team are pouring in and out of the house in a constant stream, carrying around equipment and sealed plastic bags.

“Hey, Reed.” Ben greets him without looking up from his tablet.

Gavin grunts in response, too tired and soaked for pleasantries.

Ben, for once, seems to agree with the sentiment and gets straight to the point. “We got three dead, the whole family. Jonathan, Erika, and Anthony Wells. The husband probably did it and killed himself afterward. Doesn't take a genius to see he was an addict.” Ben shrugs casually, like he's talking about the weather. “We also found enough Red Ice in the basement to supply the whole neighborhood for half a year so, there's that.”

“There's that.” Gavin repeats slowly, not quite managing the same nonchalance as Ben. “Shouldn't this fall under Anderson’s jurisdiction, then?”

Ben winces, and risks a quick glance up from his tablet. “Yes. Technically.”

Gavin hums and crosses his arm over his chest. “Right. Technically.”

It comes out a bit sharper than he meant to, still not awake enough to fully reign in his emotions. Ben risks another look up from his tablet, eyes lingering for a bit longer this time, a sad look passing over his face. Gavin fights the urge to rub at his scar.

“Sorry, Reed. I’ll send you the case files.” Ben sounds truly apologetic, and Gavin forces himself to relax his shoulders.

He’s not mad at Ben for calling him. It makes perfect sense, logically, that he did, with Hank being… unreachable for the time being. Gavin is the only other detective who has relevant expertise when it comes to Red Ice. He’d been Hank’s partner for years, after all. If anyone in their precinct can handle a Red Ice case like this, it’s him.

The thought makes an uneasy shiver run down his spine. Being assigned the Red Ice cases has always been what he’d worked towards from the moment he’d set foot in the police academy. But now that he’s being handed his first major case, it feels wrong to take it.

It shouldn’t be his to take in the first place.

Gavin shakes his head and swallows the lump in his throat. No matter what his feelings are about this, this is his case now and he has a job to do. “It's fine. I can handle it.”

Ben gives him a small smile and a few pats on the back. “I know you can. Evans’ waiting for you inside.”

Ben nods towards the house, and Gavin doesn’t need to be told twice.

He’s immediately greeted by the smell of a freshly dead body, and it’s only years of practice that keep him from gagging. The house is small, and the living room and kitchen aren’t separated by a wall, so it’s easy enough to see the first two bodies.

Erika is laying on the kitchen floor, her chest covered in so many stab wounds it’s almost carved open.

Not too far behind, Jonathan is sitting on the couch, a knife sticking out of his chest.

And in the middle of it all, is a woman dressed in white who’s barking out orders and typing away at her tablet faster than he can keep up.

“Reed!” The woman calls out as soon as she sees him. “Thought you’d never show.”

“Believe me, I tried.” He deadpans, and it makes Evans smirk.

“Murder weapon?” Gavin asks, nodding vaguely towards the body on the couch.

“Yep. Only had his fingerprints on it.”

“Suicide?” Gavin guesses, and Evans nods.

“Most likely. The entry point matches the position he’s in. Gotta admit, I’m impressed. The guy managed to stab himself straight through the heart, didn’t even miss by an inch.”

Gavin frowns, and Evans shrugs as she rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, Reed. You, out of all people, have no right to tell me I’m being inappropriate. Now stop dripping all over my crime scene and go make yourself useful.”

Gavin gives her a mock salute and goes to do just that. He starts by looking at the bodies, because he’s still a homicide detective after all.

He starts in the living room with Jonathan, whose cause of death is still poking out of his chest. His only other visible wounds are various scratches along his hands and arms, left over from Erika struggling against him. His sunken eyes and darkly-colored veins are obvious signs of his Red Ice addiction.

Next is Erika, lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor next to an upturned chair. The wounds on her mangled chest are gruesome., and Gavin has to take a few deep breaths as he meticulously looks them over. Jonathan had clearly been beyond enraged, blinded by the Red Ice coursing through his veins. Erika never stood a chance.

That leaves him with only Anthony’s body to inspect, who he guesses is in the bathroom, judging by the constant back and forth of the forensic team.

The dimly lit room is old and small, smelling of mold and blood. It’s largely intact, most of the morbid destruction being concentrated around the bathtub. Gavin walks over to it, carefully inspecting the rest of the room in case he’d missed something.

There’s blood all over the back wall, handprints smeared everywhere. The shower curtain has been ripped in half, and the tub is more red than white. Laying in that tub, in a pool of his own blood, is Anthony.

Anthony, who can’t have been older than eight and whose glassy eyes are staring at the ceiling in frozen horror.

Gavin can’t breathe.

He walks out of the house on unsteady legs, but nobody seems to notice him. He must be doing a pretty good job at not looking like he’s about to keel over. He’s made it all the way to the front porch when a hand on his arm stops him in his tracks.

“You okay, Reed?” Ben’s voice sounds far away, even though he’s standing right there.

“I’m fine.” He feels like throwing up. “You sent me the case files?”

Ben nods, looking worried.

“Great. I’ll be at the station. Call me if you need anything else.”

Gavin leaves, not waiting around for an answer. He feels dizzy, and his hands are shaking so bad he has trouble holding his car keys.

He’s fine.

He’s still shaking by the time he makes it to the station, but at least his urge to puke has gone down. He’s incredibly tired, both physically and mentally, but he pushes himself to do this, the memory of the little boy in the bathtub burning in his mind.

The case files are on his computer, just like Ben said they would, with Hank’s name still attached to them. Gavin ignores it as he opens them.

He’s immediately met with Hank’s usual barely organized mess. The files are haphazardly classified in no distinct ways, bits and pieces of information left in places completely randomly. Thankfully, he’s worked with the man for long enough that he easily reorganizes the documents into something more coherent. It's time consuming, especially since all the alcohol clearly hasn’t helped Hank become tidier, but Gavin doesn’t mind the distraction right now.

He’s about halfway through the mess when he opens an unnamed file and his breath stops short.

It’s official reports, more than a dozen of them, some dating back from months ago. Calls from concerned family members and neighbors, documenting eyewitness accounts of abuse and violent behavior. Formal complaints filed by Erika Wells against her husband. A testimony made by Ms. Wells’ mother substantiating the claims of her son-in-law’s violent behavior and Red Ice consumption. It’s everything, and more, that he would have needed to arrest Jonathan Wells weeks ago.

All of this left under Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s jurisdiction.

Anger, violent like he’s never felt before, rips through him. He feels his hands start to shake and closes them into tight fists, nails digging in his palms.

He understands, more than anyone ever could, what Hank is suffering through. And he’d been more than willing to forgive anything he did while he drowned his sorrow in alcohol.

But this? Hank had known about this for months. He could have asked, at any time, for another detective to take over the case for him.

But he didn’t, too lost in his drunkenness and complete incompetence to notice when things got out of hands. Because of him, an entire family is dead.

And Gavin can’t forgive that.

___

It feels incredibly wrong to be excited about a murder, but Gavin can’t help himself.

He taps his foot impatiently against the floor of the car and drums his fingers against the dashboard, trying to let out some of his excess energy. Hank is looking at him from the corner of his eyes, eyebrows pulled down in a frown, but he doesn’t ask Gavin to stop.

They’re only a few blocks away from the murder scene when Hank finally breaks the silence. “Kid, if it ever gets too much in there, it’s okay to leave.”

Gavin scoffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not gonna bail on my first murder case, Hank! I’m not a fucking child, I’ll be fine.”

Hank looks at him with that same concerned frown for a few seconds before he shakes his head and focuses back on the road. Gavin rolls his eyes good-naturedly at the old man’s antics, but doesn’t say anything either.

He understands why Hank would be worried but, really, it’s for nothing. He’s seen more than his fair share of pictures taken at gruesome crime scenes. He’s been trained for this exact type of situation. He can handle it.

The silence that stretches over the car is uncomfortable in a way it’s never been between them before. It only makes Gavin’s fidgeting grow worse, so he tries to focus on something else.

The neighborhood they’re driving through is nice, rich but not extravagantly so. It’s the kind of neighborhood where the kids who live here insist their parents aren’t loaded, but then brag about going to Disneyland every summer.

Gavin hates these kinds of places with a passion.

He’s pulled out of his sulking when they turn a corner and are immediately greeted with the unmistakable sight of a crime scene. There are two police cars parked haphazardly in the middle of the street, blocking the road from both sides, their bright lights making the night flash red and blue. The front lawn of the house they are guarding is corded off with a bright yellow holographic tape, keeping at bay the handful of concerned neighbors and curious bystanders.

There are officers scattered around the lawn, talking amongst each other, while people dressed in white walk in and out of the house, milling around like busy ants.

Ben is standing close to the front door, clipboard in hand, frowning and mumbling something to himself. His demeanor completely changes when he sees Hank walking across the lawn. He perks up, all of his previous tension disappearing from his body.

“Good to see you, Hank!” Ben says with a warm smile, but his face quickly shifts into a teasing grin when he spots Gavin a few steps behind. “And you too, kiddo!”

Ben slaps Gavin on the back, hard, and completely ignores the death glare it earns him. “You boys are here early. Forensic’s barely started looking around.”

Hank crosses his arm and grunts, gaze shifting towards the house. “Then I’m sure they’ll appreciate the extra pair of eyes.”

Ben snorts and takes a step back, gesturing to the front door with his clipboard. “Oh, I’m sure. And please, try not to leave dog hair all over the crime scene. Again.”

Hank pats his friend on the shoulder and gives him a smile that’s far from reassuring as he steps inside the house, followed by a quietly snickering Gavin.

They walk inside the foyer and Hank doesn’t stop until they’ve passed through the living room and he’s reached the edge of the kitchen. Gavin stands at attention a few feet behind him, curiously watching the commotion happening in the other room.

There’s a woman dressed in all white standing in the kitchen, barking orders and furiously scribbling at something on her clipboard. There’s a constant click of a camera, and people are talking to each other in numbers that seem to come out of nowhere.

“Hey, Evans!” Hank’s booming voice easily cuts through the chaos in the kitchen. “How’s the-”

“Anderson!” The woman stalks forward with fury in her eyes. “If I find a single dog hair on my crime scene, then I swear to god!”

Hank looks genuinely taken aback by her anger, raising his arms up in a placating gesture. “Come on, it wasn’t that-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m making you clean the morgue with a toothbrush.” Evans threatens, shoving her pen in Hank’s face.

By the way Hank’s mouth snaps shut, Gavin guesses this is no empty threat. He has to bite his lips to keep himself from laughing, ducking his head to try hiding the amusement on his face. He’s never met that woman before, but he’s starting to think that he should go down to the forensics labs more often.

But his smile quickly drops when he notices the large drop of blood next to his feet, the dark red a stark contrast against the plush green carpet of the living room. Gavin's breath itches as he’s suddenly reminded where he is. _Why_ he’s here.

He takes a steadying breath as he looks around the floor, tuning out the conversation happening in front of him as he tries to search for more blood. It turns out that he doesn’t have to look very hard, because there’s a second drop of blood only a few inches behind the first one. Then there’s another. And another…

Gavin follows the drops out of the living room and back into the foyer and in front of the stairs. There’s significantly more blood on each step, and Gavin feels goosebumps rise along his skin as he starts to climb up.

The top of the stairs opens up to a large hallway, surrounded by doors on both sides. There’s a wide window on the far wall, and the distant flashes of police lights reflect against the glass. Up here, the house is quiet, the buzz of the people downstairs is barely audible.

Gavin has to suppress a shiver as he looks around, attentively taking in his surroundings. Aside from the puddles of blood on the floor, the house looks pristine.

The trail leads down the hallway and in front of a door that’s slightly ajar, with a few bloody handprints smeared around the handle. Gavin takes a careful step forward and slowly pushes the door open with his foot, one of his hands reaching instinctively for the gun resting on his hip.

It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and figure out what he’s looking at. It’s a bedroom, with soft pink wallpaper and a mountain of pillows on the bed. And there is blood _everywhere_.

It’s all over the floor and on the wall, and there are even a few splatters on the ceiling. There’s a woman laying on her back in the middle of the bed. one of her arms is lying limply over her head, and the other is curled protectively around her midriff. Her stomach that once used to be stretched taut and perfectly round, has been crudely sliced open from side to side, leaving behind only torn flesh and guts.

Her wide glassy eyes are staring straight at Gavin.

He doesn’t notice he’s moving until he’s running down the stairs, leaping down two steps at a time. He almost trips when he makes it to the foyer, managing to catch himself on the railing just in time. He darts past the living room and down a small hallway with a door at the end.

He’s vaguely aware of someone calling out his name, but he doesn’t stop. His steps don’t even falter until he reaches the door and practically slams himself into it. He struggles with the doorknob for a few agonizing seconds, his hands shaking and covered in sweat, before he’s finally able to wrench the door open.

He runs to the edge of the wooden balcony, leans himself over the railing as far as he can, and pukes his guts out.

“It's okay kid.” A voice somewhere above him says. There’s a warm hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles against the fabric of his shirt.

Realistically, he knows Hank isn’t supposed to be there yet. He’s still somewhere in the house, and he won’t come out until Gavin is in the middle of throwing up for the second time.

But between the tears staining his cheeks and the heavy feeling settling in his stomach, Gavin can’t bring himself to care. Real or not, Hank is here, now, and that’s all that matters. Gavin turns around so that he’s facing him, and throws himself in his arms.

“You're okay, kid.” Hank hugs him back just as fiercely and Gavin lets himself go boneless in his arms. He starts crying without meaning to, but once the tears start, they won't stop.

“I'm sorry.” Gavin whimpers and, once the words are out, they can't seem to stop either. He whispers them like a prayer against Hank’s chest, gripping onto the man's shirt like a lifeline.

Hank shushes him wordlessly, holding him together as he breaks. And Gavin lets him, because he's been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever.

___

Gavin bolts upright in his bed and almost screams Hank’s name.

His hands fly to his mouth as he desperately tries to detangle himself from the sheets, his chest heaving. He can’t breathe, and his heart feels like it’s been crushed into pieces.

It’s a miracle that he makes it to the bathroom in time to throw up in the toilet. He heaves for what feels like hours before he finally stops, his whole body covered in sweat and shaking uncontrollably.

Through his tears, he sees something move at the edge of the bathroom. It’s probably Rat, coming over to see what all that noise was about. Gingerly, he lifts his head up, trying to get a clearer look at her.

Curtis is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest.

He'd forgotten, in his daze, that he was at his boyfriend’s house. His panicked run for the bathroom must have woken Curtis up. He looks tired, but there’s something in his eyes that Gavin’s frazzled brain can’t quite decipher.

“S-sorry.” Gavin croaks out, his burning throat not appreciating his effort to speak. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Curtis hums, and he lets his eyes roam over Gavin’s curled up body twice before he detaches himself from the doorframe and retreats back to the bedroom.

Gavin stays kneeling by the toilet

It’s almost an hour later when he makes it back to bed, stomach no longer churning but still shivering. Curtis is still awake, and he eagerly slides closer to Gavin as soon as he lays down.

“Make it up to me?” Curtis mumbles sleepily against his skin, slowly trailing kisses from his neck to his shoulder.

He shivers when a cold hand starts rubbing slow circles against the too hot skin of his stomach.

It makes him wish he was back home, in his own bed, with Rat curled up in a little ball on his chest, fast asleep. It’s the first time, since the cat has been unceremoniously thrust into his life, that he’s been sick without her around. He’s surprised by how deeply he misses her small comforting presence.

“Babe?”

Curtis’ voice snaps him back to the present, and he blinks a few times as he tries to remember what Curtis had asked. “Sorry, I just… I’m tired.”

He feels Curtis smile against the skin of his shoulder, and then the hand on his stomach is tugging him backward until he’s resting on his back. Curtis slides over him and straddles his thighs, using one hand to support his weight, and the other to softly pin Gavin’s arms above his head.

“It’s okay babe, I can do all the hard work.” Curtis whispers next to his ear before his mouth trails down, slowly kissing and nipping at his jaw.

Gavin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He’s beyond exhausted, and he still feels vaguely sick, but he also feels bad for waking Curtis up in the middle of the night. The last thing he wants is for his boyfriend to be upset with him right now. Besides, he could really use a distraction from his nightmare.

Gavin opens his eyes, looking up at Curtis, and nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Curtis beams and leans down to kiss him, fully settling himself between his legs, and Gavin knows he’s made the right decision.

___

“Rough night, uh?” Tina asks, taking a sip of her coffee. She turns a bit more towards him, her smile all teeth. “Didn’t do much sleeping, I bet?”

Gavin hums into his cup, and Tina accepts it as the only answer she'll get.

He doesn’t pay her much attention after, his focus never straying far from the glassed office in the middle of the station. He needs to have a talk with his Captain. Now.

Tina is still saying when he puts his cup of coffee down on the table he was leaning against. He ignores her as he stalks through the bullpen and slinks, unnoticed, inside the office.

“Reed?” The Captain looks surprised for half a second before his usual scowl is back in place. “What the hell are you doing in my office.”

“Give me the Red Ice cases.” Gavin blurs out, and it’s definitely not what he’d wanted to say. But it’s not a lie either, so he’s not going to try and take it back. He stands his ground instead, squaring his shoulders and straightening his back.

“Excuse me?” Fowler asks indignantly, looking at Gavin like he’s being particularly stupid. “I don’t think I heard you quite right. Are you suggesting that I take Hank, who is both my friend and your Lieutenant, and who’s also the man with the most solved Red Ice cases in this entire _city_ , off the Red Ice cases?”

Gavin clenches his jaw and looks straight into Fowler’s eyes. “Yes.”

Something shifts in Fowler’s stance, like a weight has been added onto his shoulders. “Listen to me, Gavin. I know you’re angry right now, but you don’t want to take these cases from Hank. This is only-”

“I’m not taking anything from him!” Gavin shouts, desperation quickly making him lose his composure. “ _He’s_ the one who’s abandoning them!” He’s starting to breathe too fast. He needs to calm down or he’ll start hyperventilating soon. “Did you read my report? On the Wells family?”

“I did.” Fowler answers simply.

“Then you know…” Gavin forces himself to take a deep breath, trying to keep his voice neutral. “You know what I’m talking about. Why I’m doing this.”

Fowler is quiet, eyes hard and expression openly showing his displeasure. Gavin looks down at the ground, feeling like he’s being yelled at even though the office is deathly silent. The Captain is only quiet for a few brief seconds, but it feels like it takes him hours to speak again.

“Alright.”

Gavin looks up sharply, eyes wide. Fowler’s expression has barely changed, but there’s a softer edge to it.

“I’m willing to give you a chance to prove yourself, Reed. I’m handing over half of Hank’s cases to you. Do a decent job, and I’ll consider a full transfer. Are we clear?”

Gavin nods, fighting down the pride rising in his chest. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Fowler grunts, already turning back to his computer. “Now get the fuck out of my office and never pull that shit again.”

Gavin nods again and walks out of the room. He pauses once he’s at the door, just long to look back at Fowler with as much sincerity as he can. “...Thank you.”

He closes the door behind him without waiting for an answer. His hands are still shaking when he sits at his desk, and desperately wishes he had a cigarette with him right now.

___

Gavin does more than a decent job on the Red Ice cases. He does a fantastic fucking job. Fowler tells him so, though not quite with those words, a few weeks after Gavin’s little outburst in his office.

They make it official the same morning, and Gavin allows himself a proud smile for the rest of the day.

___

It's early afternoon when something big that smells vaguely of booze plants itself right in front of his desk.

“Why did you do it?”

Gavin grinds his teeth and keeps pointedly looking at his computer. Honestly, he had expected Hank to confront him sooner or later, but he’s still far from ready to talk to him. “You'll have to be more specific.”

“The red ice cases. Why did you take them?”

Hank sounds so genuinely distraught that, just for a second, it makes Gavin forget why he's so angry.

He knows the man has always been fully dedicated to his work, solving cases with incredible efficacity. It's why he’d been so intent on being Hank’s partner as soon as he’d started working as an officer. And why he had almost passed out when Fowler had agreed to give them a trial period after months of pestering.

And when Hank had taken him under his wing and treated him more like a son than his own asshole of a father ever did, Gavin’s admiration had turned into complete devotion. He would forever be grateful at Hank for giving him a chance at having a family.

Then he remembers the little boy in the bath and his anger slams back into him at full force.

Because Hank isn't that man anymore. The brave and selfless detective he used to revere like a father is long gone.

And it's all his fault.

“Maybe I wouldn't have taken them if you did a decent fucking job.” Gavin snarls, still not looking away from his computer. He can't. He hasn't been able to look Hank in the face since the night he last went to his house.

Hank sighs, weary, and finally moves away from his desk. Gavin releases a breath he hasn't noticed he was holding, and forces himself to relax his tense shoulders.

His hands are shaking and he wants to scream. To cry.

He calls Curtis, instead.

___

When Gavin learns about Hank’s new plastic pet, he laughs so hard it makes the old wound in his chest hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the wonderful comments and kudos, it means the world to me!! I never expected this fic to get more than 5 kudos, so all this love is mind-boggling!!! If everything goes according to plan, we've now reached half of this fic!! isn't that crazy!? Thank you so much for reading!! <3 Can anyone guess who's going to show up next chapter?? ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Me: yes this is a fic about Gavin.  
> Also me: only make Gavin show up in the last few sentences of the first chapter.  
> hsdgfhd I'm sorry but plz believe me when I say baby trash boy is much more present from then on!!  
> I have a vague idea of where this story is going but the tags are very much subject to change!!


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